


Meets and Exceeds Expectations: The Ben-Hassrath Reports

by snarry_splitpea



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, M/M, Penis Size, Size Kink, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 33,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3385187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarry_splitpea/pseuds/snarry_splitpea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iron Bull is sent to keep an eye on the form and function of The Inquisition but can barely manage to keep his eyes off of the inquisitor and the inquisitor's mustached lover.  What starts as lusty dreams of their imagined encounters quickly escalates to shameless voyeurism.  WARNING: Massize size kink within.  Iron Bull's horns aren't the only massive, rigid forms that are always pointing up.  You've been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For perhaps a better understanding of what you're getting yourself into, check the prompt here at the kink meme where I wrote the beginning of this story: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/10859.html?thread=45750891#t45750891

Iron Bull's responses became more curt and extremely distracted as he felt himself growing longer and harder beneath his loose, drop-crotch breeches. The pants were held at his waist by a harness spanning his chest and tucked stylishly into the tops of his plated boots. The outfit wasn't very revealing from the waist down and he was a master at keeping his facial expressions in check. However, no man had mastered the art of hiding a cock that hung flaccid at over a foot long under loose pants while slightly inebriated. Especially not as it stiffened and sought to make its needs known.  
  
Trevelyan, none the wiser, left Iron Bull squirming in his tavern chair. Not that the Inquisitor had said anything particularly stimulating. It was simply the way his roguish smile quirked at the corners when he heard Dorian's voice from behind. Iron Bull had watched the mage approach but thought his playful expression meant he wanted to surprise his lover.  
  
The bull, ever the calculating spy, had been correct. The noble from the Free Marches had turned with a start, the tension melting from his muscles as he downed a drink the vint shoved into free hand. The other hand held a roll of reports from Iron Bull's sources. Reports the bull could tell from their banter would be tossed aside the minute Dorian and Trevelyan made it back to the Inquisitor's quarters.  
  
Iron Bull had never thought himself capable of jealousy, but there was something gorgeous and tantalizing about the way the two men touched one another. A palm on a thigh at dinner. Unblemished hands pushing a stray strand of hair behind an ear. Discreet whispers in the library. Fingers gripping the tail of a shirt in the stairwells.  
  
Iron Bull had never been the receiver of delicate touches... but somehow their attempts to keep their relationship from becoming the talk of Skyhold made the couple soft in ways no one could have imagined.  
  
And it was not jealousy.  
  
More a crush.  
  
An aching flutter that threatened to turn grey cheeks red at the stupidest of times. With either of them around or in his thoughts. Oh, but when it was both of them... he melted. And then he got hard. And then he retreated to the privacy of his own rooms to stroke the flames of said crush, dousing them with a flood of semen so thick an ex had called it pudding.  
  
He grimaced. Somehow, thinking of crass exes dampened his mood.  
  
Dorian surely slid the sealed roll of papers from Trevelyan's hands and dropped it on the floor as they rounded the Inquisitor's sofa and approached his bed. Iron Bull imagined it was a passionate approach. Slender fingers on noble hands slid through hair that smelled of soap and fragranced oils. Pink lips on sunkissed skin. Skin of the cheek. Skin of the jaw. Skin of the neck.  
  
A collarbone is revealed.  
  
Iron Bull paused in his fantasy to stare intently at his bedroom door. It was always disconcerting to him how much could be heard through Skyhold's wooden doors. He'd just caught the guffawing laughter of Sera walking down the hall. An irritated Vivienne grumbled after her. An apology from Josephine.  
  
"I always love the smell of his hallway. It reminds me of the battlefield after a victory." Cassandra declared reverently. She sounded as if she was right by his door. She inhaled deeply. Loudly.  
  
"You mean the smell of sweat and semen with a hint of roasted meat and dried blood?" Lelianna teased.  
  
"I'm sure that Iron Bull simply needs to clean his laundry and you'll not catch wind of it, again." Vivienne chimed in.  
  
"The sweet smell of men being gross and stupid. Cassandra, we've got to get you laid so you'll stop being pleased at the underside of bull balls." Sera finished.  
  
They all laughed. Except Cassandra, of course. Well, Vivienne didn't laugh very genuinely, but it was simply to spite Sera.  
  
Iron Bull sighed. The mood was completely gone. He looked around his room for a moment. He wondered what a good wash might do for the place since the time he'd planned to use for fantasies was suddenly open and empty.

Open and Empty. There was a sudden flash in his mind of Dorian bent over with his hands spreading the cheeks of his pert ass, offering a hole gaped by the Inquisitors impressive shaft, offering himself up to the bull for a shallow ride. The Bull could never indulge too deeply in human fucks.  
  
He shook the image. Surely Dorian was never so wanton. A man of such breeding and narcissism would lay back. Drape himself over pillows and furs. The bull pictured a mustached smirk. A perked brow. Flirty words. A curling finger.  
  
His flagging erection gave a twitch.  
  
The women in the hallway continued on their way.  
  
The bull decided to leave his piles of clothing and rumpled sheets where they lay. He'd hate to disappoint Cassandra.  
  
His fantasies for the first slow strokes rested on her. Slashed jawline and sparkling eyes in his line of sight as her mouth struggled to devour only just the head of his excessively thick cock. Even to other qunari, The Bull was an intimidating fuck.  
  
He found himself struggling to imagine the exact curve and perkiness of her breasts, remembering her armor revealed nothing. Her sex appeal was all in that gorgeous face. The way she carried herself.  The way a challenge made her foolish but effective.  She'd nearly choke herself on a cock so large. ...but he was not so far gone that he could masturbate simply to the way her cheeks reddened when he looked at her.  
  
A body he knew was the Inquisitors. His uniform left nothing to the imagination. The dark piping contrasted against the dull color of his jacket traced every line of his body, highlighting the broad expanse of his shoulders and pinching in the slim circle of his waist.  
  
Bull imagined holding that thin waist with both huge hands and impaling his boss on a raging cock. Erupting inside of him. Cum spraying out from around his twitching hose.  
  
Again, this debaucherous image was shaken out. He fucked most people like that... but what truly drew him to Dorian and company was the way they whispered love in their actions.  
  
He imagined the Inquisitor dragging both thumbs over Dorian's nipples, the vint moaning as they hardened under his boyfriend's touch. He imagined soft laughter, polite kisses slowly tracing a trail from Dorian's navel to his chin. He imagined a haughtily delivered complaint about not wrinkling his trousers as moves are made to remove them from his body.  
  
He imagines hard cocks framed by soft curls. Twitching while they place robes and pants on hangers.   
  
Nearly hairless limbs with a light smattering of aesthetically pleasing strands. Arms wrapped around one another. A mutual and sweet embrace.   
  
The fireplace lit behind them.  
  
Sunlight streaming through stained glass.  
  
Lovemaking.  
  
The bull came. He sprayed his load, thick and hot, into the closest piece of fabric he found and wiped the tip of his dick without a second thought for how his terrible habits had made Dorian once comment on his smell while out looking for dragons.  
  
It hadn't mattered in all his life that people commented on his smell. The smell of a man. Ah, but who wants to hear the object of their fantasies call them repulsive?  
  
He walked to his door, naked and holding a jizz-soaked rag over his crotch. It was never too hard to get the kind of help he needed.  
  
"A BATH!!!" he yelled through a crack in the door. A servant in the hall's head snapped up at his voice. "A scalding hot one! ...and someone that does laundry."  
  
The servant nodded quickly and scurried away from the work she'd been doing. She was a cute one. Perhaps he'd wait until -after- she came back to get dressed.  
  
It should have been no surprise to Iron Bull that the servant came back with a team. His bath tub was abnormally large. His piles of filthy clothing were equally intimidating. It was definitely no surprise that after marching into the room with water buckets steaming and gloved hands the entire team halted with a collective pause.  
  
"Oh, come on. I know every one of you likes what you see" Iron Bull teased. He was standing, fully nude, near a tall armoire that held the last few clean pieces of clothing he owned. He'd never been particularly stylish, but he knew of an  outfit that  could turn heads.  
  
Strolling casually, the bull unfolded the matching shirt and pants to place them on hangers which he arranged on a hook on the wall. He knew to allow the wrinkles time to relax because of Dorian. The man talked about magic with Solas, novels with Cassandra, and clothing with Vivienne. All of those topics were boring to Iron Bull's ears... except when they came from Dorian's mouth.  
  
He'd heard the two of them lament the lack of a proper tailor at Skyhold. They complained that serving girls with hot irons usually burned their sensitive silks and delicate brocades. Dorian had given Vivienne advice on hanging her robes near the tub during a steaming bath. He'd said this in the middle of a battle with shambling corpses. She'd thanked him gracefully before lopping off a decaying head with the blade at the end of her staff.  
  
Weeks later, they were running from a pack of wolves that was two or three dogs too many and she'd yelled out her gratitude for his advice on fabric care before doing what could only be called a magical backflip and dousing the entire clearing they'd ran across with flame. Some of the wolves were immediately incinerated. The rest knew better than to continue their chase. Both parties raced off in opposite directions.  
  
Though Solas had grumbled something about her excessive use of force, they'd noticed a marked decline in wolf sightings whenever Vivienne went out exploring with them.   
  
While he'd prepared his outfit for the evening, the group had gotten to work. The tub was nearly full. Just enough water to touch the edge once he sat down. It smelled of spicy, musky oils and a hint of deathroot.  
  
"Oh, this is going to be niiiiiice." he congratulated them with a hearty chuckle. "You really know how to go above and beyond."  
  
A few of them wouldn't look at him, his nudity disturbing them in ways that weren't entirely negative. The leader of the pack, however, looked him right in the eye and said that she'd do anything for any of The Chargers, most of all their leader.  
  
His brow perked.  
  
Obviously a girl that didn't want to remain stuck filling tubs at a castle in the middle of nowhere for the rest of her life.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind, little lady. Krem is the one to suck up to, though. Keep my baths hot and smelling pretty to be my friend... but to be a Charger, you've gotta make Krem yield in a fight."  
  
She slowly nodded her head with a gulp.  
  
"Don't be afraid. He loves a smart girl and might go easy on you."  
  
"Smart?"  
  
"There are about ten things going on in here that I never would have thought to ask for and the rest of you never would have thought to do. You're a good leader and we'll use that wisely."  
  
Some of the servants were murmuring. Most likely about how they didn't understand how their friend was talking to a stinky, naked man so comfortably. They'd probably start the rumor that she was once a prostitute if she gained any rank among The Chargers. He rolled his eyes at them but gave her a wink and mouthed a "good luck." He knew people well. Could read them like the back of his scarred hands. He'd even predicted Dorian and Trevalyan's relationship was going to happen the moment they met. There'd been a spark on both ends.  
  
Honestly it was the first moment he realized he'd liked the Inquisitor, himself.  
  
"Shit."  
  
He was going to think his way back into arousal. Qunari had terrifying stamina at certain times.  
  
He sank himself into his scalding bath water and chuckled once more at how perfect it was. The servants started to leave, their leader taking up the rear of the line filing out of his door.  
  
"Wait, smarty. What's your name?"  
  
She paused in the doorway, the other servants leaving the hall without her.  
  
"Ah... Integra."   
  
His voice dropped in volume. A whisper.  
  
"This is magic, isn't it?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"A trained but convincing response. Good job. The Chargers could use another archer on the field."   
  
He winked again.  
  
She smiled from ear to ear and bowed to him spouting a million blessings as she closed the door behind herself.  
  
It was time for him to scrub down and get dressed.  
  
In the tub, he managed to think about boring business that needed attending. The erection that had threatened to scare the servants from his room subsided and allowed him a clear mind to get dressed with.  
  
Thick and stocky but still flexible, he dragged a cloth across his own shoulders and down his own legs. The water only cooled slightly, maintained by Integra's magic. As he became cleaner and cleaner, the tub never turned murky or lost it's fresh smell. No wonder the mage in their party always smelled like a fresh field after rain. They never had to slosh around in their own filth like meer mortals. Iron Bull would sneer, but he loved the way Dorian smelled.  
  
He loved the way the Inquisitor's scent lingered on him. He loved the way his nostrils always knew when they hadn't had time to truly freshen up after a quick tumble in the sheets.


	2. Chapter 2

Rising from his bath, Iron Bull was shocked by and then grateful for the thick fur rug at the tub's side.  Folded on a chair near the rug was an overlarge swath of cloth for him to wrap himself in.  Most of his companions got robes, but not a soul had thought to make him one.  He didn't bathe often enough to think it important enough to ask for.  Wrapping himself from chest to knee and letting his horns and arms drip, the Bull stood proudly on the fur rug.  He wanted a moment to revel in how great it felt to be clean.  Truly clean.  
  
"Ah, Integra is a goddess, I'm sure of it."  
  
"Are you calling for me, sir?" came Integra's voice from the hall.  
  
"You're waiting for me?" he asked in surprise.  "Come in.  Come in.  And start calling me 'Bull' instead of 'Sir,' my friend."  
  
She entered the room again and immediately approached the tub.

"I didn't want you to have to call for me because someone might have come to help."  
  
"You don't want help?"  
  
"I don't really need any," In the seconds it took her to tell him that, she'd opened a nearby window with wind from her hand, summoned the entire tub's worth of water into the air, and shot it outside.  
  
"What if someone was down there?" Iron Bull asked, obviously amused at the prospect.  
  
"I'd tell them you did it and then we'd dare them to object."  
  
Iron Bull could only shake his head and laugh loud, his chest and belly rippling with his mirth.  He'd gladly cover for her if that were ever the case.  

Leaving the rug to inspect his clothes, Iron Bull removed his towel and began to dry off.  Soft little gusts of wind huffed by him as he searched for underwear and he realized Integra barely lifted a finger while cleaning alone.  The tub scooted into a corner.  The rug rolled itself underneath it.  His dirty clothes blew gently into the hallway.  Any excess moisture on the floor was quickly dried.  He stood still for a moment, looking around for a place to put his towel.  Integra's wind magic whisked it from his fingers and hung it over the side of the completely dry tub.  He laughed again.  He was never uncomfortable around mages, but he knew warriors.  To see elemental spells doing housework was not simply novel.  He felt the awe of a child.   
  
"There's a balm on the bed for your skin.  If you need me, I can come back in to wax your horns."  
  
"A balm for my skin?  Wax my horns?"  He couldn't remember the last time his horns had been waxed.  It was something bakers, teachers, and money changers had time to do before dinner.  He'd been born to draw blood.  Shining his horns before tackling a foe into the dirt seemed more than a waste.

  
"Put it on.  Trust me.  Wearing that fancy thing instead of your armor means you should smell fancy.  Go on," Integra called over her shoulder as she left his room, presumably to carry his dirty clothes away.  
  
The balm smelled of firewood, felandaris, and deep musk.  The scent made him feel like moaning.  He inhaled so deeply that the jar touched his nose.  God, he'd never make it to dinner if a particular set of kitchen maids passed him in the hall.  He rubbed it into his skin and tingled at his own touch.

Elbows. Biceps.  Chest. Forearm.  Wrist. Belly. Thighs.  
  
Oh.  On his thighs it felt like a sensual fire licking at his nerves.  
  
He bent forward, his cock growing interested in his ministrations.  It lightly brushed his cheek as he bent down.  
  
Knees. Calves. He put more on his hands.  Feet.  Each. And. Every. Toe.  
  
He was panting.  
  
He stood, bending at the waist to rub his shoulders, back, buttocks.  
  
He stared down at his cock.  A string of precum dangled from its tip.  
  
Sighing, he took a generous helping of the balm into his right hand.  Iron Bull grabbed the bulbous head of his cock, giving it a hard squeeze.  
  
He quivered, nearly falling to his knees as the felandaris and whatever other herbs the balm contained sparked his nerves into a frenzy.  It took very few strokes for him to end up making a mess of the floor.  The splattering sound of his cum hitting the stone making him quiver more.

He took a moment to use his gigantic makeshift towel to clean up the mess.  His muscles felt as relaxed as they would if he'd had a full body massage.  He smelled delightful.  Something about his sweat mingling with the balm smelled incredible.  He managed to rub the remaining balm on his face, his hands which he'd just washed at his corner basin, and horns without further upset.  It was if the balm was a potion to spike and then mellow his overactive qunari-libido.

Of course.  
  
Thoughts of marrying the incredible Integra off to his second-in-command, Krem, filled his head.  Keeping her for himself seemed like a non-option.  While the rest of the servants surely thought her infatuated with his naked form, The Bull sensed a complete disinterest.  He supposed that worked for someone that wanted to closely serve a man that barely kept his clothes on.  
  
Iron Bull pulled on a supple, grey tunic which he tucked into equally soft breeches.  The outfit had been tailored in Orlais but by a tailor that truly knew how to truly love his craft.  There was no way this particular tailor was content to take the fashion of the era and simply multiply the dimensions for Iron Bull.    
  
The man had flitted around his client cooing over his muscles and height.  He'd rubbed a measuring tape in places it probably hadn't needed to go.  Rubbing Iron Bull one time too many  had him pushed to the floor.  Straddled.  Kissed.  They found themselves distracted by a mutual affection for each other's physiques.  The tailor was soft and round in all the places Iron Bull was sturdy and hard.  The qunari pressed his fingers into flesh that gave way to his touch.  It was a treat to watch the man melt beneath his touch.  
  
Simply measuring the mercenary leader for an upcoming ball had taken the tailor an entire day.  Iron Bull remembered too much alcohol and too few meals.  They barely kept their hands off one another and never left the tailor's small but well-stocked studio.  Enamored with his client, the tailor had forgot to close his shop's windows and lock the front door.  Iron Bull had emerged the following afternoon with a massive hungover only to find himself surrounded by applauding nobles.  Thankfully his role in The Game allowed him to be a bit of a whore.  He never knew if their gymnastic feats of sexual pleasure had been a boost for the tailor's reputation or a lead weight.

In any case, the man had learned enough about the way the Bull moved that he made the one formal outfit Iron Bull could wear over and over again without ripping through it.  The soft underclothes were made of large patches that he'd stitched together in the places Bull's muscles wouldn't pull.  The calf-length coat was crafted from an impressive and flexible network of leather strips in a curved herringbone pattern.  Each strip met the next with their own easily repairable seam.  The tailor had promised Iron Bull a coat to last him a lifetime.

"Never a need to hunt down a specific fabric.  Cut out any piece that permanently stains or accidentally rips.  Sew in the next.  I'm a genius," his lover of one night had boasted.  
  
"That you are," Iron Bull had agreed that day, decades ago, when he'd tried the gorgeous coat on.  
  
Finding himself standing around in a nostalgic daze, Iron Bull shook his head a bit.  He pulled out a red sash as long as Dorian was tall and tied it at his waist.  Letting it drape only a bit, he strug it around himself a few more times to create three knots at the front that stacked on top of one another.  The drop-crotch on his pants coupled with the long hanging tails of the sash served to hide his girthy cock from all but the most determined eyes.  Iron Bull imagined that meant it was hidden from pretty much no one, but didn't truly care.  
  
Pulling on the coat, he admired himself in his wardrobe's tall mirror.

Mandarin collar.  Red piping as accents.  Silver rings down the middle.  Grey fabric accross his chest that clung to every curve and plane.  Sleeves that fastened with a single, iron button on each wrist.  Long but thinner at the waist than it was at his shoulders or at the bottom, this coat said to the world, "See how I am made."  It was what he had told the tailor he wanted.  Qunari customs leaned toward near nudity for that very reason.  He didn't want an outfit that hid him, only covered him.  He'd insisted there was a difference and the tailor had understood him well.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Krem that passed him first because dinner was only an hour away and they lived on the same floor. Most of the chargers shared spacious barracks that, despite their proximity to the stables, put even the nicest of Fereldan templar quarters to shame. Skyhold was most definitely not built in a day and it was obvious that special attention had been put into keeping soldiers happy at the castle's birth. Krem, Bull thought of as his right hand. Someone to keep close and to keep very comfortable.

"Boss..." Krem stared at the Bull. The armor he usually wore was battered and worn. He self-consciously touched his scuffed breastplate on its deepest gouge, "Did I somehow forget a mission where we needed to spruce up a bit?"

The captain could tell his second-in-command was nervous. Considering teasing Krem, Bull thought to concoct a quick story that would send Krem running to his own bath and formal coat. However, a gasp from Vivienne who was coming up the stairs, made him think better of it. He loved to tease Krem but would never make the man sweat in front of another. Krem could handle any sort of teasing and criticism, but was a perfectionist to his very core.

"Sweet Andraste, is this how you managed to swim through the social sea of Orlais?" Vivienne cooed while marching straight over to Iron Bull. Krem took a step back toward his bedroom door, mind still racing to find forgotten orders.

"To answer your question, Viv, you're one of the only Orlesians I've met with standards. You'd be surprised just how dirty your fancy friends can get."

"Not Viv. Never Viv," she scolded almost playfully. "Also... about these dirty friends of mine: Do tell!"

Vivienne smiled as a snake would, sliding a hand around Iron Bull's right bicep. Iron Bull let his arm be taken and his body turned toward the stairwell. Was she going to walk with him to dinner? He stopped, realizing he couldn't leave Krem on edge through an entire meal.

Krem's mouth had fallen open in shock and while Iron Bull felt just as surprised, he didn't show it. Vivienne rarely had a kind word for Iron Bull and almost never stepped within five feet of him while at Skyhold. This was definitely her first time touching him.

"To answer YOUR question, Krem... no mission. I just..."

"Wanted to seduce every male-inclined person at Skyhold?" Vivienne interrupted.

"First Enchanter Vivienne!" Krem and Iron Bull said in stunned unison.

"Oh, not me, of course!"

"Oh, of course, not you," Iron Bull smirked. A woman he'd seen turning down the inquisitor of all people was currently clinging to his arm like a blushing maid. Her wide eyes sparkling and full lips grinning. As cocky as The Bull could be, he'd never thought he'd see the day.

"So, not a mission... just... you smelling like daisies and looking like a sack full of gold." Krem sighed with obvious relief. "Finally going to steal Dorian from the Inquisitor?"

"Dorian?!" Vivienne's eyes lit up. Iron Bull realized her social climbing was probably just a positive side affect of her gossip addiction.

"Cremisius, that didn't need to be mentioned."

"Sorry, boss." Krem muttered not so genuinely as he passed them to head to a tavern dinner with The Chargers.  Sometimes, Iron Bull joined them, there.  Usually right before a big mission or after a big win.  Other times, Krem went with him to the dining hall.  This was definitely not a night Krem wanted to be with Skyhold's elite.  Vivienne's behavior told him enough about what the evening would turn into.

Iron Bull supposed that's what he deserved for even considering telling Krem he'd forgotten a stealth mission. He resolved himself to a lifetime of Vivienne prodding him about his feelings for Dorian. Feelings he couldn't quite explain even to himself. For the night, however, she was content to let the topic die after he'd responded to three questions in a row with only a stoic grunt.

When they entered the dining hall, she disconnected from his arm and immediately placed herself next to Dorian. The Inquisitor usually sat across from the Vint and no one sat at the actual head of the table. Well, Sera sometimes did as a joke. Cole manifested into the chair once only to comment that it was a nice chair and he didn't understand why everyone else felt afraid of the seat. Varric had tried to explain that it was the location of the seat not the feeling of it only to have Cole attempt to drag the high-backed chair closer to the fireplace.

"Everyone loves fireplaces."

"Cole, be a dear and sit down," Vivienne groaned after Varric's varying attempts to make Cole understand started to annoy her.

Cole and Varric weren't in the dining hall, yet, and without a decent distraction Dorian was staring at Iron Bull as if he'd never met him before. Vivienne was politely speaking to him as she arranged her napkin on her lap and, out of habit, tweaked the place setting in front of her. Dorian didn't seem to be listening. His eyes following Iron Bull. His chest barely moving. Was the man even breathing? Then, Iron Bull realized exactly what Vivienne was saying.

Innocently as anyone might, she asked Dorian what he thought of Iron Bull's outfit. Dorian's response was a sigh. He'd started breathing, again, at least. Vivienne finally stopped fidgeting with the articles on the table and placed her hands delicately over her napkin. She leaned into Dorian's ear, probably for effect because Iron Bull still heard her. The woman suggested that the man walk over and smell Iron Bull, too.

"And you probably noticed we walked in, arm-in-arm." Vivienne continued. "The craftsmanship of that coat is divine. Such supple leather. Such decadent texture."

Her eyes slid sideways and she looked to Iron Bull with her lips still near Dorian's ear. The next words out her mouth were practically growled.

"You should give it a nice feel."

Vivienne was evil.

To attempt to avoid close scrutiny from the handsome mage, The Bull approached the table quickly and pulled out the chair next to the Inquisitor's.

"Oh, no! Don't sit down, sweetheart. I'd like to take another look at you. Show Dorian the back of this amazing frock of yours! You know how we both love good fashion and I dare say this is the best."

Iron Bull's nostrils flared as he fought not to glare at her. He didn't necessarily need to do anything she suggested. Nor did Dorian. Yet, the two of them were putty in her hands. After all, it was all about the coat. They were grown men. They could admire a coat and allow it to be admired. It would seem silly for either of them to decline. So, Iron Bull backed away from the table. He turned. A 360 degree, slow pivot. He'd seen Orlesian nobles do just that when asked to show off their garments. Another slow 180 degree turn since she'd asked specifically to see the back.

"Feel the leather, Dorian," she urged the still seated mage. "Get up. It's wonderful!"

Iron Bull heard a chair scoot back. Slow, halting footsteps. He wondered if Dorian was looking for an excuse not to touch him. Was it disgust? Did he sense Vivienne's uncharacteristic amusement. Did he fear some sort of strange prank?

Hands.

Warm even through the leather. Large where Vivienne's were small. Caressing where Vivienne's had grabbed. Too heavy on Iron Bull's heart though the touch was light. Had he ever been touched so intimately in his life? His heart gave loud thumps that he feared the room could hear. One rubbed him from his wrist to his shoulder. The other nervously rested high on his back.

"And his cologne?" Vivienne's voice rang out through his heartbeats.

"It's... nice." Dorian complimented him. Iron Bull had never seen the man at a loss for words.

"A vice gripping like snakes curling around his chest. Gut in chaos. Butterflies trying to escape. Clothes too tight. Growing tighter as another snake gro..."

"ENOUGH OF THAT, COLE." Dorian seemed to leap a yard away from Iron Bull when he realized what the boy was about to say.

"Yeah, you've gotta try to keep that sort of thing to yourself, kid." Varric said as if he'd already told Cole that a thousand times.

"Does he?" Vivienne asked with a wicked grin Iron Bull caught as he turned to approach the table.

Iron Bull sat across from Vivienne and couldn't bring himself to look at Dorian as the mage reclaimed his seat.

Dorian's outburst. Disgust at Iron Bull? They'd flirted before. It honestly made no sense.

Or...

He dared to glance at the inquisitor's lover to see the man flushed and staring at his empty plate.

Guilt on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

Josephine barely made it into the room before Vivienne was calling her over for a pre-dinner chat. Though not usually so open with her enthusiasm, this was not entirely out of the norm for Vivienne. She and the Antivan diplomat usually exchanged gossip about distant acquaintances that sent rather rude letters. Iron Bull knew that the night's topics of choice were Dorian and himself. Much to her credit, Josephine only let her eyes cut towards him once before getting a proper handle on her face.  A former spy, Josephine prided herself in how well she controlled her face.  If she thought the Bull excessively handsome, that night, she didn't show it.

Iron Bull hadn't noticed Lelianna approaching, but nodded a greeting to her stunned face when she took a seat next to Josephine.  Lelianna, unlike Vivienne, had been caught staring at the Iron Bull with lusty eyes from time to time.  He knew as some sort of self-imposed penance for some unknown sin, she'd never bed him.  Yet, he liked the glances.  This night, she gave him a sly smile.  He wondered if she were weighing the pros and cons of dragging him to her bedroom by the sash at his waist.

 It hadn't surprised him much when Cullen took the seat to his own left.

"You've cleaned up." Cullen noted as he check his cup to see if there was at least a bit of water waiting for him.  There wasn't.  The man always seemed slightly on edge.  Always a little too thirsty.  A tad fidgety.  Iron Bull had his assumptions about why but would never voice them.  The need of a woman.  The lyrium addiction taking too strong a hold.  Lyrium withdrawal.  Fear.  There were too many variables and no real need to know.  Cassandra and Cullen were far more open with one another than they were with Iron Bull.  Surely she could support him.

As if conjured by the thought, Cassandra clanked her way into the room wearing a mish-mash of dented armor that didn't quite fit together or match.  She'd helped train recruits through the afternoon and never wore her seeker's garb while doing so.  She always thought the eyeball sigil made them go too easy on her.  It was always better when they had no idea who or what she truly was.  She paused momentarily near the table, obvious in trying to decide whether she wanted to sit next to Cullen if it meant also being next to Varric.  Indiscreet as always, she rounded the excessively long table and sat next to Lelianna.  Still across from Varric, Cassandra couldn't pass up another opportunity to sneer at the dwarf.  As for the empty space between he and Cole.  The Bull figured Solas, Sera, or Blackwall would take the seat without a second thought.

Blackwall entered smelling of horses and, much to Cassandra's chagrin, sat next to her.  Varric gave a hearty laugh while making some quip about the seeker and recent regrets.  She bristled slightly but said nothing Iron Bull could hear.

The empty chair at his right started to bother him. The Inquisitor was rarely late. Perhaps the man wouldn't show. Solas and Sera choosing not to attend was typical, but their leader was usually around.  The only times he'd been late or missing, he'd walked in with Dorian at his side.  Iron Bull glanced to Dorian.  He wondered if the lovers had argued.  He felt conflicted on whether or not the idea saddened him or brought him joy.

The Inquisitor had become friends with Iron Bull rather quickly. The man had a respect for the Qun that most humans of high birth couldn't conjure. He was content to drink heavily and in silence as long as the Bull was pouring. He used to frequent the Tavern for casual conversation instead of only popping up to ask about Qunari culture or Ben Hassrath reports.  They even flirted while still at Haven.  Then Dorian had run up the steps with Corypheus at his back, bringing with him charm and wit Trevelyan could not resist.

Iron Bull had seen it on the Inquisitor's face.  Through the fear of what was to come.  Through his determination to stop it.  Iron Bull had seen Trevelyan's eyelids droop, his lips part.  He'd seen him look at Dorian as a starved man would food.  He'd seen the same awe in Dorian's eyes before the war at their gates sent them all running.  If asked, they'd both laugh at the idea of falling in love at first sight.  They'd claim to be more logical.  Pragmatic.  Adult.  
  
Yet, it had only taken an instant and Iron Bull had watched them fall.

Felt his own heart crumble under the weight of missed chances.  How had he met the attention of a noble from the Free Marches with cool "I will if you will" indifference?  How had he not tried sweeping the man off his feet?  Pretty nobles wanted romance. Needed it.  Deserved it.  It meant nothing to be logical, pragmatic, or adult with nobles.  These were the men fairy tales were written about.  A kitchen maid might ride the bull to attend an itch that needed scratching.  The Inquisitor would never be so impure... despite the constant flirting.  
  
Finally, the Inquisitor arrived.  In the past, they'd all stood until he took his seat.  The gesture had embarrassed him so much that he'd practically begged them to stop.  He was a noble, but apparently not a narcissist.  Iron Bull assumed a room full of warriors standing for Dorian would be met with a queen's regal wave and a big smile.  Somehow, the Inquisitor's humility settled nicely next to Dorian's insufferable vanity.  They complimented each other in the most perfect of ways.

It was unfair, but Iron Bull couldn't be jealous.

He  
  
Simply  
  
Wanted  
  
Them  
  
Either of them?  Both of them?  
  
It was usually hard for him to watch the Inquisitor pass by Dorian.  The Inquisitor's hand brushing lightly across Dorian's shoulders was a slow torture to view.  This time, Dorian flinched at the touch instead of looking up with love in his eyes.

"Dorian?" The Inquisitor asked as he sat.

"A...matus?" Dorian finally realized just how much he looked like a mabari with its tail between its legs.  He puffed his chest out a bit and tried to smile.  The feigned gesture making his mustache sit crooked under hispointed nose.  He avoided Iron Bull's eyes with such determination that the Inquisitor couldn't help but look at their Qunari companion.  
  
"Have you and Bull had a spat..." the Inquisitor's voice trailed off as he turned.  
  
Trevelyan stared and the table fell silent.  Cole took a deep breath as if he were about to announce the Inquisitor's thoughts and Varric placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

Iron Bull couldn't help but to shrink under the man's gaze, though this posture barely diminished his bulk.  He was glad Sera wasn't around to crack jokes about him waddling around in a penguin suit.  What had started out as the simple desire to seem attractive to the men he was most attracted to had turned into... stress.  Plain and simple.  What had he been thinking?  The Inquisitor was probably judging him. He didn't know what for.  Dorian, Iron Bull was starting to realize, wallowed in self-pity for feeling up another man.  He knew the Vint was accustomed to wine-fueled orgies with bathhouses full of strangers.  How difficult it must have been for Dorian to stay faithful.  Not for a lack of love and loyalty, but simply an accumulation of debaucherous habits.  

Neither of the nobles had ever been secretive about their attraction to the Bull until they started dating.  Then, as suddenly as they'd fallen in love, they'd started treating the Bull like a business contact.  Sometimes in their less sober moments a little like a brother.  The flirting, however, had stopped altogether.  As if it had never happened in the first place.  Bull knew no man changed so quickly.  He knew that whatever attraction had been there, remained.  Yet, he hadn't been vain enough to assume he could ruin their relationship, but he should have at least calculated that he'd test it.  How had he not considered that?

Had he secretly wanted to test it?  Ruin it?

"You look... gorgeous." The Inquisitor finally said.  Any consideration of duplicity, the Inquisitor had obviously decided against.  
  
"I'm sure Dorian thinks so, as well." Vivienne piped in.  She knew about the Inquisitor and Dorian.  Everyone did.  Her glee at the tension in the air was appalling, but also very like her.  Iron Bull wondered if she got off on the pain of others.  
  
Iron Bull saw Dorian's right arm jerk.  It seemed like he'd thought to elbow Vivienne in the chest before his survival instincts kicked in to stop him.  No one could really tell which mage was more powerful but, if offended, Vivienne would fight dirty and Dorian would fight guilty, and she would have his heart on a platter by the end of it.  Best to keep her happy.  
  
The Inquisitor cleared his throught, nervously turning his eyes from Iron Bull to Dorian.  
  
"Yes," Dorian said softly, looking his lover in the eye as if begging forgiveness.  "Quite."

"You really should dress up more often, dear," Vivienne smiled over at Iron Bull.  "The thoughts you can put into a mage's dirty little mind wearing something like that."

She'd left it open ended but Bull knew she meant Dorian.

"Perhaps you, Dorian, and myself can take a little shopping trip when the season is right?  I'd love a few days away that don't involve tramping through the elements chasing demons."

Vivienne finally turned to see the grief on Dorian's face.  The jest became less fun.  
  
"Sorry, dear.  Without Sera around, I have nothing to entertain me," she said softly and with at least some remorse.  Dorian nodded at his empty tankard.   
  
"I'm still here.  You like to pick on me," Cole chimed in brightly. 

Vivienne said nothing, and thankfully their food arrived before the silence started to feel wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

Conversation at dinner eventually picked up. Most of the talk involved reports of Venatori activity from the Ben Hassrath and the usual non-answers from Iron Bull on what exactly he wrote in his reports about the Inquisition.

"They mostly want numbers, you know," Iron Bull said to Lelianna before shoving his mouth so full of potatoes that he'd not be expected to say another thing for several minutes.

"Number of soldiers? Amount of money? Number of pots we piss in? What numbers, Bull?" She obviously had no intention of letting the subject drop.

Dorian had long stopped eating and finally, with a yawn, dismissed himself from the table. Vivienne and Josephine paused a whispered debate long enough to wish him goodnight. Cole had commented that it was quite early. Varric agreed and commented that he hoped the mage wasn't falling ill. Cassandra had left immediately after shoving half a patty of meat into her mouth, most likely to vomit it up. Blackwall, still smelling of horses and none the wiser, had left after gorging himself on mostly salad and fruit. Cullen was a little too interested in Lelianna's inquiries on spy reports.

"I think we've been rather fair and patient about you even sending these reports. Can we not at least look them over before they're sent?" Cullen had asked.

It was a fair question, but Iron Bull feared any knowledge of what the reports contained would have his comrades censoring what they said around him. If the reports were ever considered too short or too useless, he'd be pulled away from the Inquisition to pursue other missions. He, honestly, never wanted to leave the Inquisitor or Dorian. In the beginning, he'd been there to observe for a few weeks.  Then, his feelings for the Inquisitor kept him curious enough to stay for a few months.  Then Haven fell.  Dorian started flirting.  His heart split in two.  They'd both left him wanting in favor of indulging each other.  He'd grown possessive of the couple over time.  He didn't know if he was waiting on them to get sick of one another or if he was content to remain on the outside looking in.

The Inquisitor, usually quite curious about the reports, himself, paid no attention. He'd dropped his fork back into his almost empty plate.  Snatching his napkin from his lap to throw onto the table, he offered to walk Dorian to his quarters. He was obviously surprised at Dorian leaving early, as well. He rounded the empty chair at the end of the table, possibly moving to take his lover's arm.  Dorian walked away without comment.  Not consenting to be walked or asking the Inquisitor not to.   The silent treatment, perhaps?  Like Cassandra's dismissal of Varric's existence?  
  
Iron Bull had nearly swallowed his mouthful of potatoes.  Cullen and Lelianna eyed his lips in anticipation.  Lelianna and Cullen wouldn't kick him out or stop using his intelligence. He had no need to answer them.  He watched the Inquisitor reach out for Dorian, again, just to have his arm slapped away.

"We've already talked about this a million times.  Leave me be!" Iron Bull heard Dorian whisper fiercely before the two were out of the room and therefore out of earshot.

Turning to give Lelianna a smug smile, Iron Bull made his own farewells while standing.  Cullen made exclamations about how unfair he was being.  How important the reports were.  How the inquisition might be losing trust in him.  Lelianna stared, open mouthed.  Ah, she hadn't seen the entire outfit.  The knotted, red sash.  The impressive length of his leather coat.  The way the soft grey breeches clung to the front of his thighs.

"Perhaps, we'll speak on this later?" she sighed, her eyes unabashedly glued to his crotch.  Even Josephine, who'd stopped mid-sentence just to say goodnight, found herself awestruck and speechless.  Vivienne tsked and tsked.

"You literally have your pick of the castle, yet you seek to taste forbidden fruit," the High Enchanter said to him.

"It wasn't always forbidden," Iron Bull finally couldn't take it anymore and glared at her.  She'd already made a bad situation worse.  The remorse she had for teasing her dear friend, Dorian, obviously didn't extend to him.

"Yet, you were too foolish to pick from that tree when it was ripe," she countered.  

"What are you two even talking about?" Cullen asked.  Iron Bull was definitely thankful she'd distracted him from the interrogation over reports.  
  
"I don't want the fruit, Vivienne.  I want to the tree."

"I..." Vivienne and Josephine looked thorougly taken aback.  Vivienne stood.  Taking a shallow bow, she apologized.

"We couldn't have known how serious you were.  You're never serious," Josephine spoke up to defend her friend.  
  
"Darling, did -he- know how serious you were?" Vivienne managed to ask.  Iron Bull was sure this was the first time the woman had ever read a situation wrong.  
  
"I'm going to bed," Iron Bull responded, taking a handful of dried fruit from the middle of the table on his way out.  He might have been dressed like a noble, but he never behaved like one.  He'd never be worthy of one.  What beautiful creature of comfort and wealth would possibly put their reputation on the line to be seen next to a Qunari?  It had never happened in the history of Thedas.  Sure there were quick fucks to be had.  He'd honestly never say no to that.  Yet, he knew he wanted more.  So much more.

The Inquisitor's chambers were off the main hall.  Private and secluded, only a servant could truly claim to stumble upon his private affairs by accident.  So, it was surprising when Iron Bull passed Dorian's first-floor bedroom in the tower the rest of Skyhold's elite resided in and heard the Inquisitor's voice.  
  
"You're not listening to me, Dorian!" the man shouted.  Did they not know how much sound escaped into these halls?  Did they not think it was important so early in the evening?  After all, most of their colleagues would spend at least a few more hours talking around the dinner table or retiring to various studies for alcohol and games.  Even Iron Bull usually went to the Tavern to hear a few songs with his Chargers.

Always the spy, Iron Bull crouched near the door to hear what they said.  If caught, he'd fumble with the lacing and buckles on his boots long enough to make it seem as if that's why he'd stopped.  Sometimes the plan needed to be elaborate, for these things a casual mood was all it took to keep intentions hidden.

"I didn't walk halfway across the castle to listen to you.  I came here to be alone and I don't want to ask you to leave, again!"

"I meant nothing by it!"

"You meant EVERYTHING by it!"

"Please, don't make me regret being honest with you.  Please, don't use that against me, Dorian."

There was a long silence, then.  A soft sniffle.  Iron Bull couldn't tell who it had come from.  He placed his fingers on his boots and undid a buckle.  Was the Inquisitor leaving?

"I... haven't been entirely honest with you," Dorian finally said.  Iron Bull heard the footsteps of low-heeled boots and then the creaking of a bed shifting.  Dorian had sat.  The sound of a scooting chair.  The Inquisitor's soft sigh as his bottom met the cushion.  Iron Bull relaxed.

"I was surprised when you told me about your feelings for him," Dorian continued.  "I know you were surprised at how easily I accepted them.  You even begged me to argue with you.  I couldn't.  Part of that is exactly what I told you.  We weren't really together at the time, so you could do what you pleased.  I wasn't looking for monogamy.  I trusted you if we ever did settle down, together.  Those things were true, but only half of the truth."

There was a pause and Iron Bull assumed the Inquisitor had simply nodded.  He let his heart swell a bit.  He wondered who they spoke of.  He dared to hope.

"I accepted your confession mostly because I could say exactly the same," Dorian confessed. "But I can't be trusted, Amatus.  I've not ever thought something like this was an option for me.  To have a man who loves me.  To hold him in my arms every night.  To eat dinner across from him.  It's been months, yet my mind still boggles at the thought."

"You deserve love, Dorian.  You deserve devotion!  I would never hurt you.  I wanted you to hear about that from my lips instead of through idle gossip, but I would never..."

"Everyone told me about you two when I first arrived.  Do you know how much I feel like a homewrecker?  How much Iron Bull must hate me?  I can't look the man in the face!"

"It's okay for a friend to call another friend, 'Gorgeous.'  I meant nothing by it."

"If you were Vivienne, I woudln't care.  Gorgeous is not a word you throw at drapery and centerpieces, Trevelyan."

"My last name?!"

"Necessary distance."

"What!?"

"I haven't looked at Iron Bull in months.  I've looked over him.  Through him.  I've talked to him and barely listened.  But tonight was... difficult.  I could barely manage to look away."

"Nobody could look away.  Even Cullen was fixated on his horns through the entire meal."

"But Cullen doesn't have a history with the man.  Cullen isn't practically married to the Inquisitor."

"It's OK with me, Dorian.  You can trust me.  I trust you."

"You should never trust me."

"I..."

"Trevelyan, please leave."

"My last name."

"Inquisitor.  PLEASE."

"Once more, then?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Oh, do I really need to ask you to leave, again!?" Dorian said. He sounded exasperated. The inquisitor chuckled.

"I meant..." the Inquisitor began.  "I meant that if you're sending me away and tomorrow I'll be Trevelyan and Inquisitor to you.  Let me be Amatus, until morning."

Of course, Iron Bull could see neither of them.  Yet in the silence that followed he imagined the inquisitor's face sad and tear-streaked as he laid his heart bare.  He imagined Dorian's look of surprise.  He imagined the pretty tears of fairy tales.

There came the soft shuffling of feet.  Iron Bull imagined soft steps forward.  A face cupped lightly in two hands.  Sweet.  Sincere.

What he heard next didn't fit the tapestry his mind painted.

It just didn't fit.

"You conniving little bitch!" Dorian accused.  Immediately, there were sounds of a scuffle.  A moaned cry from the Inquisitor.  The blunt thump of entangled bodies hitting the bed.  Fabric ripping.

"You know I can't resist you, Amatus," he heard Dorian gasp out, each word punctuated by the sharp sucking sound of kisses.  He heard both nobles panting.  Slaps.  Grunts.

"AH!  Dorian!  Don't be so rough!"

Iron Bull moved to stand.  He readied himself to  interrupt them.  He wondered if Dorian had lost his mind.  Why on Earth would he hurt his fellow noble.  Why forgo sweet love-making when he'd been asked for one more night?  Was the Inquisitor in danger?

"That's not what you said this morning, you sneaky prick."

"I meant, don't be so rough with my uniform.  You do realize I only have five of these and you've destroyed three."

"Wear something different, then!"

"It's my uniform!"

"It looks like pajamas and rips like pajamas."

Another loud tear.

"I hate you, Dorian.  I hate your stupid gorgeous face."

There was a rhythmic slapping sound but no sound of the bed shaking.  No crinkling coverlet.  No headboard slapping stone walls.

"Don't call me that.  It's your word for Iron Bull, am I correct?  He's gorgeous, right?  The bulk of him and that terrifying cock that's always twitching when he talks to you."

The inquisitor cried out.  The slapping quickened.  Iron Bull was puzzled.  They weren't fucking.  Why did it sound wetter, now?

"Too much.  Still your hand.  I can't!" The inquisitor gasped. The bed shifted and there was the sound of Dorian gagging.  Trevelyan's cries grew louder and then suddenly stopped.  He made a high-pitched squeal.  The sound of the bed evidence that his body was shaking.

Iron Bull felt his own cock begin to grow.  With his right knee on the ground and left foot planted for a more comfortable crouch, he realized anyone coming up behind him or passing at his left wouldn't be able to see it.  The idea made him bold.  He adjusted his hardening rod, tucking it down his left pant-leg.  Resting his arm down his thigh, he teased the head of it with dangling fingers.  Perfectly discreet as long as he had no need to suddenly stand.

It was terrifying to hear Dorian speak so vulgarly to his lover.  It was mind-boggling to hear the leader of one of history's greatest institutions moaning like a bitch in heat.

It was enough to make any man soil his breeches with cum.  Iron Bull wasn't far from it.

The inquisitor was panting and the rhythmic slapping had given way to much too loud sucking.

Glancing over his shoulder and attempting to determine just how much time had passed since he left dinner, Iron Bull grew bolder still.  Left hand still perched over his bent leg, he pressed his right hand around the base of his cock.  There was no way for him to discreetly drag his hand up and down the length of entire cock.  So, he let his fingers massage the sensitive sack below it.

The Inquisitor moaned a few times about being too sensitive.  He complained that he'd never get hard again so quickly.  Yet, Dorian didn't stop the disgusting slurping that implied a thick cock and frothy drool.  The Bull wanted to see Dorian's sculpted lips dragging along the Inquisitor's flaccid cock.  His tongue darting out to taste his spent seed.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am literally writing this on my phone. So... ignore mistakes and come back to read the proofread version, later! Also, send happy thoughts to my computer. I hope my other fics aren't lost forever!!!

Iron Bull's mind boggled. He wondered if Dorian was the type to use sex as manipulation.  Had Iron Bull just witnessed the appetizer to a main course?  Or was the Tevinter mage likely to get the Inquisitor off just to get him out of his room?  The Bull would not judge.  He had done similar while on missions.

He wondered if Dorian brought the Inquisitor's pleasure before burying himself in their trusted leader's ass. He wondered if leaving at that exact moment would deprive him of hearing them gasping as Dorian slid in and out of his lover. Ever the spy, Iron Bull had to consider that somehow in his own aroused haze, he'd forgotten how much time had passed. He couldn't allow himself to be caught. Especially not when there was a full-blown erection standing nearly upright along his thigh, completely unhindered by the soft fabric and loose design of his pants. His cock twitched and he could feel his own bitter serum leaking out, warm as it slid along his knee and pooled where his boots held is pants tight around his calf. Daring to glance down, he saw that the steady stream of precum made him look as though he'd pissed himself. He needed to make it to his room before the others returned from their nightly past-times.

If he was lucky, he'd pass no one in the hall. His greatest fear was stumbling upon Lelianna or Vivienne. Those two had a way of using even the smallest information in their favor. He couldn't imagine what they'd do with such a tantalizing morsel. Josephine, though just as crafty, was nowhere near as evil. She'd blush red and skitter away. Cassandra would likely faint. He couldn't imagine what Cole would do, but that kid wasn't truly a concern. Cole, like Sera, slept above the Tavern, usually. He'd been found in a hayloft or two. He seemed more inclined to trees and crumbling ruins when they were in the field. He imagined Cullen would be hilariously uncomfortable with the sight of him, but thankfully the commander slept where he worked. Blackwall and Solas would likely pretend they'd seen nothing. Varric and Sera would crack a joke but do no further harm.

He stood.

His cock, thankfully, curved left instead of sticking forward.  That meant the beast was slightly concealed by his coat. The garment was knee-length and heavy, so the bloated, leaking head couldn't be seen. But despite the coat and sash, the wet stains on his crotch and left leg were too apparent. He'd never wished for a closed coat in his life. They were stifling and uncomfortable. Yet, here he was with an open coat, held around his waist with a red sash that served the purpose of keeping his arms warm but left nothing about his mid-section to the imagination.

He pressed his large hand to the coat, sandwiching his tip of his cock between the fabric of his clothing and his muscled leg. He took a few steps forward. It was difficult and incredibly pleasurable to walk while holding one's cock against a leg. The slow friction of his now-wet skin sliding against the sensitive glans was enough to make his knees quiver.

He had several flights of stairs to ascend.

The architecture of the tower had never vexed him. Entering on the ground floor, one could go left or right to approach one of two doors to spacious apartments. Choosing neither, there were stairs in front of the door to ascend. Once upstairs, the same choice presented itself. Left or right for rooms. However, to go upstairs Iron Bull would need to walk past either door to the opposite end of the hall where he could ascend, again. This created a sort of zig-zag pattern to get to his room. A comfortable stretch for any able-bodied man of his age on a normal day.

Perhaps not comfortable for a man attempting to hide from everyone he knew. He couldn't move very fast unless he let go of his cock and he didn't want to risk letting go in case someone came wandering by.

There were always maids and other workers about. He honestly had no idea what to expect.

He managed to get one floor beneath his room before he heard Lelianna's voice.  She lived above him so unless he hurried or hid, they would definitely meet.  It disturbed him to not know who she was talking to.  Had his worst nightmare's come true?  Lelianna and Vivienne at the same time?

A fissure of pleasure ripped through his body, his cock twitching mightily against his gripping hand.  He had no choice but to pause and collect himself.

"What was that?" Josephine's voice rang out.

He realized with a grimace that he'd moaned.

"Iron Bull, I think.  Is he hurt?" Lelianna replied.

Wonderful and perfect friends that they were, both of them started running up whatever set of stairs they were on.

"OH NO NO NO I'M FINE!  PERFECTLY FINE!" He yelled down to them.    
  
The women stopped rushing.  He could see them.  Just a few stairs below him.  He continued down the hall in a limp.

"You look hurt." Josephine said as she rounded the pole at the top of the stairs.

"Yes, why are you walking like that?" Lelianna asked.

He tried to hurry, but another strong twitch rocked his leaking cock.  Another involuntary moan.

"Josephine, find a maid.  I'll walk Bull to his roo..."

 

"NO!" Iron Bull insisted, cutting Lelianna off rudely.  He leaned on the banister and stopped.  He was only one flight of stairs away from his room but perhaps only a few steps away from an orgasm.  He coudln't imagine how uncomfortable Josephine would be with the display.  How ravenous it would make Lelianna.  He was full of conflicting emotions on this particular night.  He never wanted to say "No" to someone as gorgeous as Lelianna, but he definitely couldn't give his full attention to anyone after what he'd witnessed with Dorian and the Inquisitor.

Integra.

Bless her.

She'd popped her head out of the door they all stood near.  She could see him very clearly and could barely stifle a giggle at the sight of him.

"Ah, Integra, a little help?"

Somehow, being seen by Integra didn't feel embarrassing.  He knew what was no doubt her biggest secret and she'd personally seen to him being in a similar condition, earlier.

"Ah, I thought you'd be in good company when the potion wore off, Bull."  The maid immediately fluttered over to him, conveniently carrying a blanket that all three of them could have sworn hadn't been in her hand when she first opened the door.  She threw the fabric around him and he clutched it over his front.  

Though Josephine and Lelianna had offered to help Integra get him up the stairs, he'd insisted that it was not such a handicap.  He'd just take it slowly until he got to his bed.

Much to his chagrin, they walked ahead of him but not very far.  The two women obviously wanted to see him to his door.  He loved his friends.  He'd just never felt so awkward in his life.  Lelianna and Josephine stopped to pat his arms and shoulders, asking after his health.  Making inquiries about the potion Integra had mentioned.  He'd shrugged it off as an old wound that troubled him from time to time.  Any fighter of a certain age had aches of their own. The two women nodded with true empathy and wished him a good night.  

Finally behind closed doors, Integra clutched at her stomach to not laugh out loud.  She panted almost silently but with great joy stretching her features.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up."  Iron Bull groaned as he collapsed on his bed.

"I'm sure Master Rutherford won't notice that blanket is missing from the room he never uses.  I'll collect it, tomorrow."

"You didn't tell me it would wear off and have such a... strong reaction."

"The potion doesn't increase your libido, it just gives you a nice break.  Whatever made -that- happen must have been quite... stimulating."

"Maker, it was."


	8. Chapter 8

True to her word, Integra returned the following morning to retrieve Cullen's blanket.  Iron Bull, never long distracted from his work, was at his desk.  As usual, his clothing rested on the floor instead of across his back.  The only thing covering his lap was a quilt he'd dragged off of the bed with him.

He and Integra greeted each other with very few words.  The Bull was thankful that she respected his need to concentrate. Also, the lack of awkwardness from the previous night.  

He wasn't much of an artist but he was doing his best to create a map.  He was sending the Ben-Hassrath information about a long-buried trade route the Inquisition had not only uncovered but made safe for travel.  Lelianna had made it very clear to the Inquisitor that the route needed to stay secret.  When Iron Bull asked the Inquisitor for clarification on what "secret" meant by her definition, he was disappointed to find out that she wanted to forbid any forces beyond small troops and, of course, her spies.  Grudgingly, the Inquisitor had explained, Cullen and Josephine had agreed.  Vivienne and Josephine lamented the funds they would forgo by not opening the road to the public and placing a toll.  Cassandra and Cullen grumbled their disgust over having to keep a shorter trip to some major cities a secret.  There was no way to discreetly march an army down a road you're hoping nobody will see.  Not to mention how many of the soldiers would probably use it on their own or tell their friends and families.

In honesty, Iron Bull had no real desire to share the information with his own people.  It was the kind of leak that was too easy to trace back to him.  Sudden spurts of Qunari traffic on the road would have the entire Inquisition breathing up his neck in no time.  He knew he could lie well enough to convince his colleagues that there must be some other spy.  Yet, he didn't want the Inquisition wasting resources on wild goose chases.  If the day ever came when the contents of the Ben-Hassrath reports jeopardized his position, he would leave with his integrity and dignity in tact.

After, perhaps, dropping Dorian into a deep bow and kissing his face clean off.

He paused, his brow furrowing in mild confusion.

When had his "Fuck all of you & Goodbye" fantasy changed from groping their beloved Inquisitor to sticking his tongue down Dorian's throat?

"Are you done, Bull?" Integra asked as she wiped moist hands down the front of her apron.  She'd conjured warm water to fill his bath and the residue gave the uncomfortable sensation of sweating palms.

"Not quite.  You waiting on me for something?"  
  
"I know you don't bathe every day, so I thought this would take some prodding."

"Are you... implying I make baths a daily habit?"

"I'd call it begging." She quickly used her wind magic to make up his bed while simultaneously pushing his dirty clothes into the hall.  Of course, in making his bed, the quilt over his lap had flown away.  He chuckled at her guile.  She hadn't started a fire and probably knew he'd get cold enough to leave his chair, rather quickly.

"In the field, we're lucky to find a puddle and a dry leaf to wash off with."

He watched as Integra's magic threw open the shutters on his windows and smoothed out the rug on his floor.

"Lucky you're in Skyhold, a place with bathtubs and washcloths for everyone." 

"You just want another excuse to see me naked."

"Maybe if you didn't have such intimidating..."

Iron Bull whipped around in his chair, very interested in what she had to say, next.

"Horns, sir. Bull." Integra finished with a wink.  

She closed his bedroom door behind herself as she left.

Freshly bathed, Iron Bull left the tower.  He turned a few heads as he marched by a miscellany of soldiers and servants wearing a harness and boots made of nug leather with matching breeches.  Hoping to avoid being dragged out on a mission, he decided that looking battle-ready was not a priority.  His only goals for the day were to finish his reports and spend a lot of time with Lelianna.  Not only did he need to make sure she and Josephine knew he was okay before they brought up the previous night's incident at dinner, he wanted to pry a little more information out of her for his reports.  The map illustrated a big find, but it couldn't be the only thing he sent.

Nug leather was a soft material, much better suited to the kind of outfits rogues wore.  The light weight and flexibility made it less likely to rip under the stress of outstretched arms operating a bow or duel-wielders running circles around their opponents.  Incidentally, the light weight and flexibility also made it less like to poke or chafe a Qunari that needed to spend his whole day seated.  For most Fereldens, the biggestd drawback was the color.  A soft, blush pink didn't exactly scream of battles or clean easily after fieldwork.  It was another design he'd commissioned in Val Royeaux.  He wanted his wardrobe to always nod to his Qunari heritage, but had needed clothing that also nodded to the reality of his undercover life.  If he was to spend afternoons sipping tea with masked nobles in pastels, soft pink garments were in order.  Perhaps while drunk he'd someday admit that he rather liked having clothing that was purely decorative.  The Qun was nothing if not practical.  Sometimes, Iron Bull thought, that got a little boring.

As luck would have it, he found Lelianna, not at her usual desk or shrine, but a floor below them.  With Dorian.  Hunched over a table staring at a book.

The two of them hadn't acknowledged Iron Bull's approach, so he simply listened in.  He didn't know if they had noticed him but decided not to speak just yet, or if they hadn't noticed him and he was eavesdropping.  He also didn't care.  It was a habit he couldn't break.  Another unbreakable habit, was the one that always forced him to drink Dorian in, completely.  Lelianna, bent over in her chantry-modest hood and mail, took only a glance to observe.  Warm, dusky colored fabrics and thick, metal links.  A bump in her backside to imply but not show the curve of her ass.  She knew how to be taken seriously at all times.  How to give no man the coward excuse of saying he was distracted in her presence.  Her sex appeal was largely in the fullness of her bottom lip.  The intensity of her stare.  The power in her voice and movements.  

Dorian, on the other hand, was designed to distract.  The way his mustached begged everyone he met to watch his lips as he talked. As he smirked.  As he flirted.  The way his leather leggings hugged his thighs.  

His damn shoulder.

Iron Bull was sure that, prior to meeting Dorian Pavus, not a soul at Skyhold at ever in their lives made a fetish of men's bare shoulders.  He was sure that, after meeting Dorian Pavus, shoulder-high leather gauntlets would eventually become all the rage.

The buckles.  The straps.  The polished-beyond-all-reason shiny details.

Dorian definitely wanted to be looked at.  Objectified.  And Iron Bull couldn't look away. 

"Dorian, honestly, there's no spell for this and I am not trying to help you find one.  I want you to see what danger you're putting yourself in and for such unreasonable... well.. reasons."

"Lelianna, you don't understand.  I'll fuck this up. I always fuck it up.  I need help!"

"Do you need a spell, or do you need someone to help you sort out how you feel?  Perhaps talking to Mother Gi..."

"Don't.  Finish. That. Sentence."

Lelianna sighed and pulled away from the table.

"Dorian, I'm worried about you.  You're much too hard on yourself.  Just the fact that you're fretting over it this much shows what a decent person you really are."

She turned to Iron Bull, then.  So, she had known he was there.

"Where you looking for me or him?" she asked.  Always straight to business with her.

"Good morning to you, too."

"It's afternoon, Bull.  I wake with the ravens."

"Ah..." Iron Bull responded.  He couldn't help but feel distracted by the way Dorian avoided his gaze.  It was as if he wasn't there.  His eyes flicked back to Lelianna, "I just wanted to let you know I'm feeling better and uh...thanks for last night."

"LAST NIGHT!?" Dorian said, probably louder than he'd intended to. The shock was so great that Iron Bull and Lelianna immediately reached for weapons they weren't carrying.  A loud ruckus from above told them the ravens had heard and were just as surprised.  Iron Bull was sure a peek over the railing would reveal a confused Solas frowning up at them.  Dorian seemed to contain himself with much effort and whispered as if in agony.  "Ah, you two... um... at night, hmm?"

"What?" Lelianna and Iron Bull asked in unison.  
  
"Oh." Lelianna and Iron Bull realized in unison.  
  
"No, not that." Lelianna and Iron Bull denied in unison.

"Not, yet." Lelianna added with a sly grin.

Dorian looked at Lelianna as if she'd slapped him.

"Oh, Dorian.  You don't really expect me to honor your imagination, do you?"

Iron Bull narrowed his eyes at both of them.

"Bull, if you're here to talk to him, I'll leave you to it.  If it's me, I'm busy.  Let's meet, tomorrow." She instructed as she left Dorian to stew with his book.

Iron Bull mumbled a confused afternoon greeting to Dorian as she left.  Dorian didn't respond.  

Not usually one to pry when it was obvious emotions were involved, Iron Bull found himself debating.  Did he want to ask Dorian what was going on or to simply leave?  Perhaps leaving would have been easy if Lelianna hadn't mentioned the danger Dorian was in.  And what was that business about honoring his imagination?  What on Earth could Dorian be imagining and why would he need a dangerous spell to deal with it?  Bull had the chilling thought that perhaps a demon of imagination was harassing Dorian in his dreams.  Or, possibly, whatever the negative opposite of imagination was.  Reality?  He frowned trying to figure out what exactly that demon would do. Remind you of past debts and future responsibilities?  Kill you under the weight of life's monotony?  In any case, Bull couldn't walk away if his mage friend was at risk of becoming possessed.

"So... a spell, huh?" Iron Bull asked, hoping he sounded casual.

Dorian seemed to be holding his breath.  What exactly was so terrifying about acknowledging Iron Bull?  

For the first time since he left Dorian's door trapped in the most painful miasma of arousal he'd ever felt in his life, Iron Bull felt regret for eavesdropping.  He searched Dorian's face, closely for signs that he'd known Iron Bull had been there.  Was he too disgusted or embarrassed to even speak with the man, again?  Iron Bull couldn't quite read Dorian.  That disturbed him.  In the same way he could never quite tell what Lelianna and Josephine were thinking, Dorian was a book in an unknown language.  Dorian had never been a spy.  Not really.  How was he so good at hiding how he felt?

"I'm not trying to ignore you."  Dorian whispered to Iron Bull's boots.

"Um... I'm up here."

Dorian's eyes closed and with a sigh, he straightened his posture enough to look Iron Bull in the eye.  Dorian's eyes were swollen and red-rimmed as if he'd spent half the morning crying or was developing a fever.  His breathing seemed steady.  No sniffling or crackling breaths.  His strong, straight-on gaze lowered again.  This time to Iron Bull's nose.  The Qunari supposed that would have to do.

"If your goal is to NOT ignore me, then your horse is lost in the Kocari Wilds." he chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood.  

"What? Lost in the what?  When did you start talking like an old Ferelden father?" Dorian's face did look disgusted, then.  Iron Bull's smile grew.

"Well, we are in Ferelden and I am around fift-"

"STOP!  Don't tell me." Dorian's hands fluttered in front of him, waving off Iron Bull's age like an annoying fly.

"You're in an interrupting mood, this morning." Iron Bull said, referencing how Dorian had cut Lelianna off earlier.

"Lelianna knows I practically hate Mother Giselle.  She's a nosy nun with no respect for those that choose not to live as she does."

Iron Bull's heart turned to lead.  Mother Giselle!?

"She giving you trouble about being into men?" Iron Bull asked, more than ready to grab even Mother Giselle by the collar over such injustice.

"What?  No!  Just... being Tevinter while the man I'm with is our Inquisitor... and she's made snide comments about the bare shoulder distracting the younger sisters."

"That's not much better."

"Oh, come now, Iron Bull.  I thought any enemy of 'the Vints' was a friend of yours."

"Well, you're not really a Vin..."

"Let me stop you there, Bull.  I am from Tevinter.  I love Tevinter.  Dearly.  I am definitely, as you say, a Vint."

 "Dorian, what I mean is: Imperialism, ya know?  I mean it.  Tevinter foreign policy is a mess.  It's all murder for the sake of power.  Not to try and sound clever, though."

"Murder for the sake of religion is better, then?" Dorian started.  He then sighed and held up a hand to halt Iron Bull's reply.  "No, I do understand what you mean.  I've wondered on it myself.  And.. you're right.  I'm against it.  As for not trying to sound clever, you're the most clever man I know.  Next to myself, that is."

Iron Bull's brow perked.  The most clever man he knew?  Hell, he wasn't even the most clever man in Skyhold!

"I hope I put enough Emphasis on 'man' when I said that.  Vivienne, Josephine, Lelianna, and Cassandra could run rings around you on any test of knowledge."

"Oh, I'd never argue that.  But Solas is definitely..."

"More experienced on a very particular subject.  Past that, it's as if he's emerged from too long a dream and is wandering lost in a world not meant for him.  The man behaves as if he's 80 years old and we're all children.  He's confident.  Not necessarily clever."

"Fair enough, but Cull..."

"CULLEN!?  Don't you dare tell me that you're about to say that Cullen outstripes anyone in this castle on cleverness.  Cullen is determined.  His tenacity has served him well.  Honestly, Cullen.  Really?"  Dorian rolled his eyes at Iron Bull.  Iron Bull wanted to be offended.  Cullen had spent most of his life as a templar.  Not a lot of time for reading books or soaking up culture.  Somehow, though, he knew Dorian wasn't really using either of those things as a standard to judge anyone by.

"Surely, the Inquisitor is the most cle..."

"No.  See, that's where you're wrong.  That's where a lot of people are wrong.  Clever?  A clever man, he'll never be.  The Inquisitor is fair.  He's honest.  He's brave.  And he's -lucky- I can't emphasize enough how much of his success is just dumb luck... or Andraste... if the two are unrelated, I suppose."

"Well if I'm so much more clever than him why aren't you and I..." Iron Bull caught himself.  He stopped himself.  He was not the type to flounce.  He'd never left in a huff or run off in a rage.  If a conversation involved him.  If an argument involved him.  He stuck it out.  He made sure all parties involved were okay when it was over.  He was much like the Tamassarans in that way.  However, something about talking about the Inquisitor with Dorian.  Something about his jealousy, which he'd never admit to having, rearing its ugly head.  He turned and started to walk away.

He could hear Dorian making soft and varied noises, obviously trying to find the words to say.

No words ever came and Iron Bull never turned around.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Lelianna being busy put a wrench into Iron Bull's plans for the day.  Especially with his mind reeling from the absolute vitriol he'd almost flung at one of his closest friends, he wanted a distraction.

It had been a mistake to talk to Dorian.  

He had, for months, looked at Dorian and the Inquisitor as if they'd distanced themselves from him.  Thinking on it in the moment made him realize he'd also pulled away.  He lost all his carefulness, his cunning, and his edge when trying to speak with them about anything but business.  His usual confidence melted away, leaving him more vulnerable than he could ever remember being.

He needed to get them off of his mind.  He needed to get Dorian's dangerous spell of his mind.  His damn shoulder.

Josephine.

Once relaxed, she was overly chatty.  A great source of information for his reports and, thankfully, a source that might not remember what she'd leaked.  Sadly, it could take hours for him to hear anything useful and he'd have to wade through a mountain of idle gossip to get to the good bits.  Crossing the great hall to get to Josephine's office, he noticed Varric engaging in animated conversation with Cole.  No doubt telling a story of his life in Kirkwall.  He caught a quick glance of Vivienne leaning over the railing above.  She backed away when their eyes met.  She, no doubt, wanted no man but the luckiest to catch her in any position where her bosom hung forward. He waved a greeting to the visitors that stopped to look at him and continued on his way.

Josephine stood to greet him the moment he opened the door.  She faltered.  Her smile wilted almost imperceptibly.

"Expecting someone?" Iron Bull asked, not offended by her obvious disappointment.   

"Ah, I'm impressed you could tell," she said as she rounded her desk to welcome him, anyway.  Typically, her eyes left her paperwork for only a moment when someone entered her office.

"An important diplomat?  I could leave." Iron Bull supplied as she shook his hand and gave his shoulder a warm pat.  He loved the way she commanded a handshake.  Reaching over instead of under.  Establishing dominance with her free hand instead of placing it behind herself.  The fact that she shook hands at all.  Josephine, to Iron Bull, was the ideal queen.  Regal and assertive.  Feminine in all the expected ways and masculine in ways no one could attack her for.  He wondered if Thedas was lucky she & Lelianna had never decided to take up arms and conquer the world.

"Oh, no!  I'm expecting a delivery.  I was just going to meet them at the door.  Have a seat on the couch.  I'll join you and we can share them when they get here."

Following her instruction, Iron Bull sat with his back to the door.  The fireplace radiated only the slightest warmth.  Josephine wore enough layers that the dying fire probably had no effect on her.  He wondered what torture it was for women in blouses, jackets, vests, and skirts to perch before a fire and project the image of cool calmness.

He heard her bubbly greeting.  He heard shuffling that implied a hug with one hand wiping up and down a back.  She giggled.  He idly wondered if it was a close friend of hers but didn't consider it important enough to turn and look.  Josephine began to insist that her guest join them near the fire to share "them" and his heart leapt into his throat as he heard the Inquisitor politely accept her invitation.  The qunari stood suddenly and turned hoping to leave.  The Inquisitor made that impossible with the words that followed.

"Ah, such warm greetings from Josephine AND you!  I don't think today could get any better."

Iron Bull gave the shorter man a strained smile and nodded his head in a bow.  The inquisitor's smile brightened further.  In all the ways Dorian looked tired and hurt moments ago, the Inquisitor looked vibrant and victorious.  The blasted man not only blocked Josephine from sitting next to Iron Bull by rushing to the other side of the couch, but he trapped Iron Bull in a less than brotherly hug.  His head centered in the qunari's chest.  Hands resting on his naked back though they should have naturally fallen on the straps of his harness or even his thick, nug-leather belt.  Hair tickling what Krem always called his "sweaty man-bosom."

Iron Bull's life as a spy hadn't prepared him for whatever this was and he couldn't hide his discomfort.  He sucked in a deep breath.  Frozen.  Josephine stared at him over the Inquisitor's shoulder as their leader started to pull away.

"I know the scar tickles a bit when I touch people... is it uncomfortable?"

"I rather like the sensation," Josephine supplied.  Iron Bull suddenly understood the hand rubbing and giggling.

"Ah," Iron Bull stalled for a moment to gather his thoughts.  He was glad to have a valid excuse for his rebuff.  He wasn't sure he had a real excuse for it.  Was he uncomfortable because they'd never truly touched?  Was it the fact that the Inquisitor was Dorian's?  Was it guilt over wanting Dorian, too?  Was it really just the tickling magic?

"I guess I've never really hugged you..." the Inquisitor murmured.  The Bull could tell an apology was coming next.  He didn't want it.

"No. No.  Nothing's wrong with it.  I was um... surprised."

Neither of his friends seemed like they believed him.

"Aww, come on guys.  See?  Look!" He then bent forward to grab the Inquisitor, hooking his arms around the thin waist.  The sides of their faces touched and the Inquisitor chuckled as one of Iron Bull's horns lightly grazed the top of his head.  To hear him laugh so close.  To feel the vibrations against his neck and chest.  Iron Bull's face warmed and he let go.

"Those horns must really get in the way when you..." the Inquisitor stopped himself from finishing that statement.  His eyes darted over to the glowing embers in Josephine's fireplace and he shook his head, smiling.

"I've always thought that!!" Josephine practically cackled.

"I know they're there.  I keep them under control."

"I'm sure you do."

Iron Bull narrowed his eyes at the Inquisitor, then.  Knowing that both he and Dorian had noticed his obnoxiously spontaneous erections made him wonder if the man was somehow reffering to his lack of control over his cock.  Sarcasm sounded as good on the Inquisitor as laughter.  Iron Bull's heart ached as Josephine opened a box of candied fruit and offered them both as much as they wanted.  He was sitting thigh to thigh with the object of half is desires.  He couldn't keep his heart from racing.

Josephine asked if they'd heard about how the blacksmith got the scar on his left calf and offered them sweets from her "delivery."  After Iron Bull had scarfed down seven cream-filled bonbons, she suddenly apologized for not letting them know they had alcohol in them.  She was only on her second and it didn't really matter to her.

"WHAT?!" The Inquisitor shouted, white froth dribbling out of his mouth and onto his hands.  The Bull's cock was very interested in this image.  He watched a single droplet fall from his fingers to land daintily on his crotch.  The Inquisitor sucked and licked at his bottom lip, chin, and fingers trying to contain the mess.  Josephine laughed, again, obviously not moving to help.  Iron Bull knew she probably had a handkerchief on hand and was just being cruel.  He loved it.

"Josephine, honestly.  I've had twelve of these."

Iron Bull's eyes widened. Even with his qunari size, he could feel the effects of seven delicious booze-filled bonbons on his usually keen mind.

He laughed heartily at the Inquisitor who finally gave up and wiped creamy hands on his thighs.

"You shouldn't gobble down my sweets like cheap nuts, then." Josephine reprimanded the Inquisitor.  Iron Bull decided not to refer to how many he'd eaten.

"Aw, fuck.  Now I look disgusting." the Inquisitor shook his head while staring down at his own lap.  Josephine and Bull were surprised at how quickly the sweet liquor had gone to his head.  

He leaned over, his head falling against the Sweaty Man-bosom.

"Uh, boss.  You're getting my chest all sticky."

"Am I?"

There was a hint of deviousness in his voice.  Iron Bull couldn't see his expression.

Josephine gasped and bunched her hands in her skirts as the Inquisitor, drunk off his ass and red in the face, licked the patch of skin nearest his mouth.  Iron Bull's nipple.

"Ahhhh!  Oh, god I'm sorry.  I should have said something earlier!" Josephine jumped up and pulled the Inquisitor away from Iron Bull.

The Inquisitor laughed as Iron Bull stood.

"Ah, Josie.  Josie Josie Josie.  I was only helping.  He's such a dirty man.  Always filthy.  Nasty.  I wanted to clean him up a bit." The Inquisitor laughed uproariously as Josephine pulled him off the couch.  He flung his arms around her in a hug.

"I'll get you back to your rooms and then you can..."

"No. No not there.  Just let me stay, here."

Iron Bull had made it halfway to the exit.  He gritted his teeth and cursed himself.  His skin felt like electricity was shooting all over him.  Hugs.  Licks.  The Inquisitor.  It was too much.  His fantasies were hitting him fast and he just wanted to be alone.  Yet, an unusual request usually had an unusual purpose.  The Inquisitor's rooms were close enough and comfortable enough that they were the best option, even while drunk.  Was the man really so drunk that he needed to be carried?

Iron Bull pictured carrying the Inquisitor up his stairs like a new bride and tossing him onto his bed.  What an image.

The Bull definitely wanted to go back to his rooms before the previous night's events repeated themselves and he ended up running to the war room to jerk off.

"Josie, he hates me."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure Iron Bull liked it," She responded before The Bull could even deny it himself.  He still glared at her, though.

"Not, Bull, Josie."

Iron Bull wasn't sure exactly when the fire had finally gone out for good, but there was no warmth left in the room.  Suddenly, a lot of things made sense.  And he was surprised at just how much it hurt.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Josephine's distressed expression shot Iron Bull right through the heart. He wanted to excuse himself from the room. He wanted to leave whatever Dorian had said or done to the Inquisitor on her lap. He could send Varric and Cole in on his way out. He could go to his room, take a cold bath, and go to bed. He could leave this qunforsaken day behind and wake up tomorrow as if none of it had happened.

But he couldn't leave dear Josie in the middle of her office clutching a drunk friend that had begun to sob.

"I... I uh... I do have an appointment, soon. The Duke we spoke of yesterday is here and will come to my office for high tea." She apologized as Iron Bull approached. She was already trying to help the Inquisitor stand on his own so she could wipe the bonbon cream and tears from her shirt.

"It's no problem at all," Iron Bull reassured her, letting the Inquisitor fall into his arms as she backed away.

"I've got to go change but I'll stop by his room to check on him, later. Please get him there!" Josephine instructed as she pulled out a handkerchief to pat at the stain on her chest.

"No! No... I can't go there. I'll just... I'll just sit in the hall until I'm feeling better."

"With all due respect, Boss, I don't think whomever Josephine is waiting on wants to see our Inquisitor drunk." Iron Bull said

"Nor does the Inquisition want him to see you this way. Um... take the side exit instead of going out into the main hall. You can hole up in the kitchen. I'm sure food will help."

The Inquisitor, still shaky on his feet, nodded his consent. Josephine and Iron Bull sighed their relief.  Iron Bull considered helping the thin noble limp his way through the castle.  Instead, he hoisted the Inquisitor up into his arms and carried him like a swaddled baby.  The Inquisitor wrapped his arms around the qunari's neck and didn't protest.

Iron Bull sighed more relief when they found the kitchen empty. It was an awkward hour where most of the staff took their own meals elsewhere and socialized. 

He gathered an assortment of fruit and leftover food. Bull sniffed at some of it but couldn't tell if it was fresh or not. He shrugged and sat the bundle near the Inquisitor whom he'd propped on the tall table at the center of the room.

Gently placing him on the table had been intimate but Iron Bull was in no mood to be stimulated by anything. His heart usually turned to lead when he heard a grown man cry.

"So, uh... I'm not great at this sort of thing, but we do need to talk."

"We don't need to." The Inquisitor whispered at an apple he'd picked up. His body still swayed slightly and Iron Bull moved in closer to keep him from falling off the table.

"You'd already been drinking before Josie gave us those things."

"An accusation?"

"An observation.  ..but no judgement, here. You know how I drink."

"...I've been drinking since last night." The Inquisitor admitted.

Iron Bull nodded despite the fact that the Inquisitor wasn't looking at him. He moved to stand in front of the Inquisitor and it just felt natural for him to put his hands on the man's knees. The Inquisitor didn't flinch away from the touch.

"It's hard, Iron Bull. It's hard to be in charge of so many people.  I don't know how you do it."

Iron Bull often wondered how The Inquisitor did so well.  Iron Bull had been plucked up at a young age and trained to be a leader.  Cullen had earned his way through military ranks.  Josephine was born into a merchant family and, just like Lelianna and Vivienne, learned the ways of a diplomat via The Game.  Cassandra had her values to ground her and her Seeker life to prepare her.  Varric, Sera, Solas, Blackwall, and Cole were skilled at what they did but evaded the responsibilities of a leader with just as much skill.

The Inquisitor couldn't have backed away from the throne if he'd wanted to.  The group of them would have forced him onto it, even as a puppet.  The mark on his hand had decided his fate for him.

"I don't know how I do it either," Iron Bull responded, his large hands more at home on the Inquisitor's legs than they'd ever been.  "I do know that any of us will help you in any way you need."

The Inquisitor nodded.  Taking a sad bite from his apple, he finally lifted his eyes to meet Iron Bull's.  
  
"I'm such a fool, Bull."  
  
"I don't think so."

"You don't know what I've put Dorian through all these long months.  He couldn't take it anymore.  He's finally tired of me."

Iron Bull fell silent, then.  He didn't know anything about The Inquisitor that Dorian saw behind closed doors.  He knew his fantasies.  He knew what he loved about them both.  He couldn't imagine ever being tired of either.  Even the giddy misery of the drunken mess before him was attractive and only brought out Iron Bull's grudging maternal instincts.

"Dorian is a commitment-phobe with a jealous streak," The Inquisitor began.

"Whoa, whoa!  I thought this was going to be about how YOU fucked up?"

"Oh, I'm not complaining.  I love how he wants me all to himself but at the same time wants us to keep things loose.  I love how he leers at the templars but turns red when I do it.  It's all a part of who he is.  I adore hi... Oh.  Oh, Bull, I'm sorry.  This must be hard on you."  
  
The Inquisitor placed his hands on top of Iron Bull's and leaned forward.

"Sorry about what?"

"I... know how you feel about him.  It must be hard to hear me talk about him at all."

Slightly annoyed, Iron Bull tried to pull back.  The Inquisitor gripped his hands.  Holding them in place.  Demanding he stay.  Ah, there was the leader of the rebel upstarts that built a small kingdom.

"You don't know how I feel about him.  About either of you."

"Either of..." The shock on the Inquisitor's face was tainted by his worry.  "You've never forgiven me?"

"Forgiven you?"

"For... Dorian."

"For Dorian?"

There was confusion on both their faces.  Iron Bull felt Trevelyan's grip loosen.

"For leaving you for him... for... taking him from you?"

Iron Bull laughed.  In that moment he realized what mistake he'd made with both of them.  Instead of pulling away, he pushed his hands up Trevelyan's thighs.  Leaning in.

"I won't say I wasn't surprised at first, but it's not like either of you ever rejected me.  I never out-right asked and I got what I deserved."

"You only deserve the best, Bull." The Inquisitor said.  Their faces much too close.

"I've got the best," Iron Bull smiled down at him.  "My two closest friends in love with each other and taking care of one another."

"Well, we're not together anymore."

"You'll get back together.  I give it a week at the longest." Iron Bull chuckled, again.  "But I've decided that I want new regrets.  No more looking back with disappointment over how little I did."

"What does that mean?"

Their foreheads touched.  The Inquisitor didn't pull away.  They let their vision blur and closed their eyes.  The cloying sweetness of sugar and liqueur tickled their nostrils.  Iron Bull knew how delicious both their tongues would be, together.

"It means that with your permission, I'd like a kiss.  I'd like to tell you how I feel.  I'd like to deliver you to your rooms so you can sober up." Iron Bull listed his demands.  "I'd like for you to apologize to Dorian for whatever stupid thing you said or did."

"You're asking me to cheat?"

"I'm asking you to decide whether or not you got dumped last night."

"I did!"

"So, is it cheating?"

The Inquisitor's face flushed.  He had gone from swaying to squirming.  He licked his lips.

The Inquisitor's lips were soft against Iron Bull's.  He not only initiated but lead the kiss.  Dominated it.  The way Iron Bull had always imagined either noble would melt in his arms was completely wrong.  The Inquisitor grabbed Iron Bull's overlarge hands and pulled them to his waist.  He then reached up to grip at the qunari's harness.  He dragged him into his arms.  His legs went around Iron Bull's girthy waist.

"I'll always want you." Iron Bull whispered against his lips between sharp bites.

"I know."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole fic is in the process of being tweaked in random places. I'll post an author's note somewhere later letting you know when to give the whole thing a nice reread. I found a great proofreader because I love you guys <3  
> ____________________________________

For Iron Bull, the day was surreal.  The Inquisitor's legs were wrapped so tightly around him that neither could deny the excitement that surged right to their groins. He'd never imagined he'd be pounced by someone that usually showed such decorum.  A man of manners frotting up against him excited him in every possible way.  It was like being ambushed by a horny Terror demon.  Pleasure.  Fear.  It made his stomach flip in a way nothing ever had.

Despite the shock, Bull couldn't bring himself to peel The Inquisitor from his face. As gently as he could, he backed Trevelyan up against the table and balanced him there. He rubbed large hands up and down the smaller man's back in slow, soothing strokes. Bull tried to meet the Inquisitor's passion, but fireworks were being set off in his mind.  He could barely think to control his teeth and tongue.  As he grazed his thick tongue across the top of The Inquisitor's smaller one, his boss fluttered the tip of his own, tickling and flirting in a way most people saved for fellatio.  Some shameful part of him delighted in defiling The Herald of Andraste, but this was a man that had come to him already filthy with sex and Andraste wasn't his Goddess.  

If Iron Bull worshiped anyone, it was Inquisitor Trevelyan.

The thought frightened him and his attempts to slow their feverish kiss grew lighter still.

It was the Inquisitor that pulled away first.

"What are you doing, Bull?" he asked, breathless as he fumbled with the overabundance of clasps on the man's harness. All but three of them were there for simple vanity. He'd only managed to unbuckle one.  "Someone's eventually going to catch us and you're acting like we have all the time in the world!"

Iron Bull, still trapped by his boss's legs, reached up and closed the clasp.

"Time for what, boss?  All I asked for was a kiss."

"Would you say no to a fuck?"  The seductive noble was reaching up to stroke one of Iron Bull's horns.  The Bull shock the rigid shaft out of his way.  His head tossing back just a bit to keep both of them out of reach.

"I wouldn't say no to a sober man.  A single man that didn't have a boyfriend."

"How about we keep our clothes on?"

Iron Bull's heart thumped almost as hard as his cock twitched. He'd gladly frot up against that delicious backside and soak another perfectly good pair of pants. The only problem was the fact that he wouldn't do even that with a drunk man.  Some sick part of him wanted to fuck the Inquisitor despite their tangled relationship with Dorian.  Fuck him in front of Dorian.  Take ownership of the ass he followed through plains and desert in an attempt to remedy the world.

Iron Bull hated the part of himself that was so primal. So eager to fuck.  So eager to claim.  The part of him that made his cock hard throughout most of the day and jizz more than any human was built to take.

"I'm mostly sober, after all?"

"No such thing, boss."

Iron Bull watched as Trevelyan ran a hand across the length of his own cock.  The throbbing rod was visible under the soft uniform he wore every day.  It twitched so dramatically that it pulled at the fabric around his knee.  He watched the cloth stretch and relax as Trevelyan made his cock jump.

He'd never imagined the man to be so dirty.  Though it matched literally none of his fantasies, he found that it only made him want the man, more.  

"A nap to sober up and when I wake, I'll give you a blowjob," The Inquisitor offered, moaning ever so slightly as he gave himself a squeeze.

"Boss. Stop."

The Inquisitor huffed and took his hands off himself.  He was a persistent asshole, it seemed.  Yet, coercion wasn't his style.  Iron Bull was glad.  His own cock tugged at his drop-crotch pants and leaked precum down his thigh.  He couldn't handle saying 'no' too many more times.

"You don't like being begged?"

Iron Bull loved being begged.

"Not in this context."

"What is the context, Bull?"

"A drunk man on the rebound is attempting to ride my dick on a kitchen table we can't stay on because someone might interrupt us and ruin the reputations we've worked hard to build."

Trevelyan had the nerve to laugh in response.

So this was the man Dorian slept with every night. Hard to sate, quick to make life-changing decisions, and more business than romance. He'd wondered how Dorian could ask him to leave and be countered with an offer of sex. In that moment, he knew. The Inquisitor didn't see sex as completely connected to a relationship.

The Bull frowned.

He wanted to ask for confirmation on something from their past but almost dreaded the answer.

"Um, Boss... I do have a question about... well, us. Past us. Before Dorian."

The Inquisitor's eyebrows perked and he let his legs finally fall from Iron Bull's waist. At least talking about Dorian meant the Inquisitor would stop frotting against his dick.  The idea of cumming in his pants while the Inquisitor humped him was appealing in ways he didn't want to explore for a very long time.

"Were you hoping to be... friends with uh... well... friends that could be, I guess, intimate... but just friends... with me?" Iron Bull hadn't meant for the question to come out so clumsily but dreaded the Inquisitor cackling out a 'yes.'  He didn't even know if they could continue being friends if the man confirmed his fears.

The Inquisitor narrowed his eyes a bit, obviously concentrating on his reply.  Iron Bull watched as he bit his bottom lip and gave him a sad look.  Drunk.  Emotions swirling.  He looked as if he'd cry before he replied.

In a whisper.

"I wanted... you. Period. Almost from the moment I met you."

Iron Bull stared at him in stunned silence.  Definitely not the answer he expected.

"I don't look it, but I'm a man of romance.  I see someone and my heart just... claims them."

Iron Bull opened his mouth to speak but could not.

"It terrified Dor... I don't need to talk about that, now," The Inquisitor cleared his throat.  "Bull, to see someone that loved a good fight and boasted of good fucks... Maker, you were the most exciting person I'd ever met."

"So, not just friends..." Iron Bull finally whispered back.

They were hugging, again.  Chastely despite their equally debauched states.

"I thought YOU wanted to just be friends, Bull. I knew I could fuck you if I asked. I just wasn't sure I could walk away if we did."

"And now you're willing to just walk away when we do?"

The Inquisitor pulled back a bit to look at Iron Bull's face and the flicker in his eye told Iron Bull that the drunk but horny man had latched onto the wording that implied a definite fuck in their future.

"Bull, I am single. This may be fast but"  
  
"Fast?  This is a rebound.  I might be a big brute, but I'm no fool."

"I'd never think you a fool nor treat you like one!  I've been thinking about this for as long as I've known you.  It's always at the back of my mind.  It will forever be poison to any relationship I try to fucking have.  Bull, I lo..."

"Don't you dare say that while you're drunk.  No disrespect, boss... but shut up."

"I'm sorr..."

"I don't want your apologies, either."

The Inquisitor pulled back, then.  Iron Bull was tired of him pulling away.  He held him in his arms, pulled him even closer.

"I'm going to enjoy this hug."

"You only asked for a kiss."

"I also asked to tell you how I feel."

"Tell me."

Iron Bull buried his face in The Inquisitor's neck, committing his scent to memory.  Committing the feel of his skin against his nose to memory.  Rubbing his back so he'd remember the feel of his muscles under the dull grey uniform.

"My dear Inquisitor, I don't believe in love at first sight.  I don't believe in having secret affairs with someone else's lover.  I don't believe in relationships that only serve love or desire.  You're from an important, human family and I'm a fucking qunari.  Even rumors of you being with me would ruin whatever future you have to look forward to."

Trevelyan and Iron Bull loosened their grip on one another.  As they slid out of the hug, Iron Bull turned away.  He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his heart.  It wasn't exactly what he'd set out to say, but it was the truth nonetheless.  He wouldn't tell a drunk man he loved him.  He would never tell Trevelyan he loved him.  It felt selfish to even toy with The Inquisitor's heart.

"Spare me your heroics, Bull." The Inquisitor hopped off the table and adjusted himself.  Neither of them still wanted to fuck and the mood was quickly turning sour.  "Is this where you say it's not me, it's you... but blame my background? ...because Dorian beat you to that and we still had our fun."

Iron Bull rounded on the Inquisitor as quick as any assassin and backed him against the table with a snarl.

"If I'm going to piss on my religion to have a relationship with the Herald of damn Andraste, I'm not in this to 'have fun.'  You're mine, forever."

The Inquisitor looked justifiably frightened.  Iron Bull hadn't meant to scare him, but he was getting sick of how aloof the man seemed.  

"Now, I want you to hobble your drunk ass back to your own damn rooms and think about that... or stay on this table and rot for all I care."

Iron Bull pulled away.  He was doing it, again.  He was running.

How in all Thedas had Pavus and Trevelyan made him such a coward?

"Bull, I'm asking you this as your boss... not your friend.  I want you to listen and I want you to answer me before you leave."

Somehow, Iron Bull was reminded of Dorian's tortured sighs.  The magister looking for a leader couldn't call him back.  The natural born leader refused to let him go.  Iron Bull swallowed, but didn't turn around. He couldn't look at the man.  He'd begun to think the Inquisitor overly selfish but couldn't find him unattractive.  He still wanted to give in and give the man what he wanted.  This was the torture Dorian endured.

"If Krem witnessed this conversation, which of us would he call a fool?  You, or me?"

"Krem would never call you a fool."

"What a political answer," The Inquisitor still wobbled on his feet, but Iron Bull knew this was his war table tone.  The bon bons and whiskey weren't talking.  He was. "Now, does Krem avoid calling me a fool from fear of retribution or does he recognize that I am no fool?"

"I don't understand what you're getting at."  Iron Bull nearly groaned as the Inquisitor walked around him to make sure they were facing one another.  The man really knew how to command a room. Intimidate it.

"I've told you what I want.  I've told you AND Dorian what I fucking want.  You two might think me selfish to keep repeating it but you're selfish for denying me my pleasure under the pretense of protecting me.  I'm no child.  I'm no fool.  I might hate being the fucking Inquisitor, but I'm -GOOD- at it.  I know what I'm doing.  I almost always do."

He stared Iron Bull directly in the eye and then had the nerve to dismiss him.  So much for Iron Bull's attempt to tell him where to stumble off to and rot.

Iron Bull was infuriated.  Invigorated.

The guilt floated in his belly, making him queasy.

"You hate being The Inquisitor?"

"I hate seeing you, every day.  I hate seeing Dorian, every day.  I hate the fear in both your eyes.  Let go, Iron Bull.  Whatever it is you're fighting with, let me help you."

"I'm not figh..."

"Not here for your lies, friend.  Again, I suggest you leave."

"Yeah, well... I asked you to leave, first."

The Inquisitor laughed, again.

Iron Bull hated how much he loved the sound of it.  He pouted to keep from laughing with him.


	12. Chapter 12

"There's a saying among the servants, sir.  Uh, Bull." Integra said as she entered Iron Bull's bedroom.  He'd only been back an hour and hoped to get some work done before dinner.

Iron Bull put down the magnifying glass he used to inspect his reports from the Ben Hassrath. Hidden messages in qunlat were sometimes woven into the fibers of the parchment.  It was a neat trick but unnecessary in his eyes. Most enemies of the qunari couldn't read their language.  They viewed the qunari and qunlat as savage.  In any case, there was either nothing hidden or The Bull was too distracted to see. The reports had arrived while he was in the kitchens with Trevelyan.

His heart thumped painfully.  

He couldn't think about the Inquisitor at the moment without a sense of impending doom clutching his chest.  Still dressed in the soft-pink, nug leather harness that smelled of his boss and sweet liqueur, he'd groaned when Integra entered.  If she smelled any hint of the afternoon's activities, he was sure she'd rush him into a bath before dinner.

Apparently, thinking of dinner gave him the same sense of impending doom.

"A saying?" he asked while turning his chair to face her.  He could barely concentrate on the reports, anyway.

"Yeah, it goes something like..." she paused to place a thoughtful hand on her own chin, looking to the ceiling as if the words were above her.  There was something playful about the gesture and Iron Bull narrowed his eyes.  Integra lowered her face with a wicked grin.  Before Iron Bull could warily ask what she found so funny, she cackled out "DON'T DO ANYTHING INTERESTING AROUND LADY MONTILIYET!"

"FUCK.  ALREADY?" he asked, banging a fist down on one knee.  He'd idly wondered how long it would take for Josephine to mention the bon bon disaster to Lelianna.  He'd hoped their spymaster would at least clear out the servants before letting Josie speak.  It suddenly dawned on him that Josie had probably burst into the Lelianna's "crows nest" yelling about the incident through a fit of giggles.  That meant every single soul in the tower from Solas to the topmost bird had heard.

Fuck. 

That meant Dorian knew.

Integra was laughing so hysterically she could barely keep standing.  He'd seen her amused, but never quite this undone.

"IT WAS JUST A FEW HOURS AGO!" Iron Bull snapped at her.  He wasn't usually so surly but she hadn't known him long enough to be surprised.

"I'm sure the rumors started five minutes after you left her office." Integra wiped a joyful tear from the corner of one eye while making a noble effort to calm down.

"Well, I'm glad whatever she told you was so funny." Iron Bull grumbled, standing up in hopes that his intimidating bulk would silence her.

She looked up at him with her shoulders still shaking with stifled laughs.

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

"Integra, the afternoon didn't stay funny for me and I'd like it if you stopped."

Shocked, Integra nodded.

"Sorry, Sir...Bull.  Bull.  I didn't realize you weren't feeling well."

"No problem.  I'm usually pretty jolly.  You had no way of knowing."  He was nothing if not understanding.

Integra looked relieved.  Suddenly, she turned her body and ran toward his bedroom door.

"KREM!  WAIT NO..."

Krem burst into the door banging the side of a shield with a dagger.

"EVERYONE GATHER AROUND FOR CANDY NIPS!  KREM TESTED.  INQUISITOR APPRO..." he finally noticed the chilly mood of the room.

"Ah..." Krem clicked his tongue, "I've fucked up."

"I tried to tell you not to..." Integra muttered as she attempted to discreetly sidestep her way from the room.

Krem made his own moves to follow the maid before Iron Bull stopped them both with a word.  They turned slowly, concern on their faces but remaining silent.

"Glad to see you two are such fast friends." Iron Bull said warmly, shocking them both.  He meant it.  Integra had a good spirit and was what he assumed Krem's type would be if he dated.  Iron Bull took a few steps over to his bed and sat down.  Anyone could plainly see he was weary.

"Boss, I didn't mean to upset you."  Iron Bull's second in command sat down next to him, throwing an arm across his broad back and giving him a hearty pat before settling into the half-hug.

"You didn't, Krem.  I've just been a little out of it all afternoon."  

Iron Bull, just as comfortably as if he did it every day, pressed a small kiss to the Krem's forehead.

Integra's eyebrows perked.  The two of them were closer than she'd assumed.  She tiptoed toward them and carefully took a seat next to Krem.  She let most of her weight rest on her tiptoes despite being seated.  Much to her delight, Krem reached over and gripped her hand in his.  Her weight finally sank into the mattress.  Iron Bull glanced over to see the two of them smiling.  Blushing.  He then noticed both of their smiles melting into concerned frowns.  He felt guilty.  They'd wanted to come to his room and have a good laugh.  He had no right to ruin their day just because his had gone to shit.

They sat in silence for a long moment while Iron Bull attempted to think of how to lighten the mood.  Iron Bull dreaded seeing Dorian and The Inquisitor at dinner while Krem dreaded their next sparring match.  Iron Bull wasn't big on yelling, but he'd channel at least some of his aggravation into his fighting if it didn't dissipate, soon.  Integra's dangling feet began to kick around, a bit.  She held a good poker face, but she was obviously overjoyed at the moment.

"What exactly was that horrible racket a moment ago?" Vivienne rounded Iron Bull's open bedroom door with a practically shouted complaint but stopped when she saw the solemn trio.

"Iron Bull's having a bad day... not that you care." Krem explained.

"Krem, why do you always say embarrassing things about me in front of Viv?" Iron Bull grumbled.

Vivienne smiled in a way the three of them would see as maternal... if they didn't know her.

"Oh, Bull," she cooed.  "It's First Enchanter Vivienne and I care about you as deeply as I care about everyone here."

"Well ain't that comforting." Iron Bull groaned sarcastically.

"So... about the noise?"

"It won't happen, again." Krem promised instead of explaining.

"Good to know."

Vivienne paused again before leaving.

"Iron Bull, I hope your evening is better than your day.  Will I see you at dinner, love?"

Iron Bull nodded, not trusting himself to say anything reasonable.  He admired Vivienne in more ways and one and technically none of what had happened to him in the past few days was her fault.  It still pissed him off when he looked at her, though.

She bowed slightly to the three of them and left.

Krem cleared his throat after she left, wondering if his boss would be comfortable talking but not wanting to force the issue prematurely.

"What. Krem."

"Uh... I don't know what happened, but if it has to do with the Inquisitor wouldn't you be better off eating with The Chargers, tonight?"

"Why would you..." Iron Bull suddenly realized he'd promised Vivienne she'd see him at dinner.  "My horns must be twisting loose."

"I hate that image and you know it, but you always say it, Bull.  You always say it."

"How do you like the image of us having to leave the Inquisition because I'm an idiot?" Iron Bull asked.

"Should I... go?" Integra asked.  Both men appreciated her respecting their work enough to offer instead of trying to go unnoticed so she could listen.

"I suppose so," Krem turned to her and nodded.  "I'll see you in the Tavern?"

"You could see me anywhere you like," Integra admitted, her tone not suggestive despite her words.

"I know," Krem stood to walk her out the door.  "I don't really operate that way, though."

Iron Bull couldn't see Integra's face as Krem leaned in the doorway to finish his goodbyes with a whisper.  Yet, he heard her giggle and it cheered him a bit.

 "So, boss... I'll go to dinner with you."

"What about Integra?"

"She and I have a date for the weekend."

"You don't even know what you're getting into stepping up to a table with Pavus, Trevelyan, and Montiliyet, tonight."

"No mention of Madame de Fer?"

"She'll want to watch and take notes for later.  I'm not really worried about her."

"Maybe you'll get lucky and your would-be lovers won't show?"

"Don't call them that.  And really... that would worry me more."


	13. Chapter 13

Dinner, as Iron Bull expected, felt awkward in ways he hadn't anticipated.

After prodding from Krem, he'd arrived late and the table seemed to be split down the middle.  Blackwall, Sera, and Cullen  were on the end closest to the door.  They laughed, joyfully, and the nipple jokes were already flying.

Dorian, Lelianna, Vivienne, and Josephine were silently staring at their plates.  They obviously had other things on their minds.

Cole, who usually planted himself next to Varric, was sitting next to Dorian and intently staring at the side of the mage's face.

Iron Bull suddenly remembered Dorian's earlier discussion with Lelianna and felt worried.  Did Cole sense the touch of a demon on the mage?

Iron Bull took his usual seat next to Cullen and glanced over at the Inquisitor's empty chair.

"Dragon in Emprise du Lion.  Varric, Cassandra, Solas, and The Inquisitor shipped out an hour ago." Lelianna explained as Krem eyed the empty chair, wondering if he could sit there.

Krem sat at Iron Bull's right.

If Iron Bull had been holding something, he would have crushed it.

Their Dragon-hunting party had always been Dorian, The Inquisitor, Solas, and himself.  Dorian could lay entire fields of dragonlings to waste in a single second.  Solas could revive, heal, and command the very Fade itself to suck the life from their opponent.  And Iron Bull... Iron Bull could keep the Dragon's focus on himself, dance the great beast around the battlefield so elegantly that his friends never took a hit.  The Inquisitor knew how much he loved it.  Was punishing him for trying to be a decent friend.  A decent man.

Chaotic, angry energy built up in Iron Bull before he could tame it.  The qunari banged a fist down on the table, rattling the dishes and appetizers that were present.

He heard Krem's chair scoot back and the shuffle of light armor as Krem stood.

"Tavern's serving lamb, tonight.  Don't wanna miss it." his second in command lied as he placed a firm grip on Iron Bull's shoulder.  The Bull stood.

He noticed the concerned faces around the table.  Despite the distraction, Cole hadn't looked away from Dorian and Dorian hadn't looked away from his plate.  Dorian's hands were on the table, twisting a cloth napkin with a white-knuckled grip.

Vivienne's wide-eyed stare at Iron Bull slid down and over to the almost-spirit beside her.

Cullen and the rest of the table didn't look away from him.

Lelianna nodded slightly.

"Enjoy your lamb, Bull." she whispered.

"I will."

Once outside, Krem sighed and looked up to the moon.  "I'll get some better armor and bring you a nice, big axe, Boss.  Wait for me behind the Tavern."

 

Behind the tavern, Iron Bull found himself staring up at a full moon with a heavy heart.  He'd gone against his own temptations, sacrificed what he wanted for what he knew to be right and somehow that effort had been twisted.  He didn't know if that was just the way things were destined to go or if he should be angrier at Trevelyan.  

He found himself incapable of feeling angry at the man.  He was everything he wanted.  Aggravating confidence included.  How he could he expect a human that ran headlong into Dragon battles to not be a little headstrong in relationships?  Thankfully, he hadn't attempted to physically force Bull.  It would have worked, but they'd never be the same.

Krem clanked his way down the nearby stairs and dropped an old, cheap axe at his boss's feet.  Iron Bull couldn't help but smile down at the rusted metal with its creaking and splintery handle.  Krem knew he loved a good weapon-breaking brawl and had likely taken great care to find a junk piece nobody would miss.

Squaring his shoulders, Krem dropped into a fighting stance as The Bull bent languidly to take the great axe into his hands.

"Good thing the moon is so bright, tonight.  I'll be able to see the look on your face when I hand your ass to you!" Krem laughed before shrinking behind his shield and daring Iron Bull to take the first swing.

"It is nice, isn't it?" The Bull simply flipped the axe blade to the ground and leaned on the handle, turning his head to stare back up at the great orb in the sky.

"I get the feeling you're going to ask me to stroll with you along the ramparts.  Maybe ask you to take a look at your etchings."

Iron Bull chuckled.

"I'm sure Integra wouldn't be happy if I made a move on her man."

"I'm not exactly hers yet, but... no.. I don't think she'd like it."

Iron Bull laughed louder.

"You know, any other night this would have been exactly what I needed." Iron Bull confessed while gesturing to the battleworn axe in his hand.  "Thank you, Krem.  You're a good friend."

"Any other night, eh?  What do you need then, boss?"

"I guess I need to find out why Cole was staring at Dorian like some dangerous puzzle."

"I'm sure Lelianna has that... handled." Krem sounded nervous all of a sudden.  

Iron Bull knew he wasn't at all afraid of magic and demons.  He was scared for Iron Bull.  Krem walked over to his boss and gave the qunari a great big pat on his shoulder.  They hugged as they usually did.  Firm grips and a pause for stern looks.  Affirmation of their deep bond.  Of the power they constantly siphoned from one another and conceded too each other.  Life would have been simple if Iron Bull and Krem were in love with each other.  He thought back to the blush on his second-in-command's cheekbones and nervous rattle in his voice.  He knew Krem had breathed out long enough to repeat Integra's name when she introduced herself and when breathing in had fallen in love.

Much the way Trevelyan and Dorian had fallen for each other.

How he had fallen for both of them.

"I'm sure she trusts Dorian to handle it." Iron Bull said with worry in his tone.

"And you don't?" Krem was hauling the axe out of Iron Bull's hands and onto his own shoulders.  His knees buckled slightly under the weight of a tool Iron Bull flung around with the speed of a whip.

"I don't.  Especially not during a full moon and with The Inquisitor away."  Iron Bull hadn't let Krem keep his attention away from the moon for very long.  It looked close enough to touch.  The kind of moon that more conservative Fereldens said Kocari witches danced naked underneath.  The kind of moon that ancient tomes demanded for their most powerful spells.

"You know him better than I do, boss."

"Thanks for tonight, Krem."

"You're welcome, boss."

Krem clanked his way across the yard, deciding to take the long route back to the weapons room.  He suddenly had a lot of free time and Iron Bull knew his friend measured the likelihood of getting to spend it with Integra as he walked away.

Finding himself not quite brave enough to reclaim his dinner table seat, Iron Bull decided to pace the library in case Dorian stopped by for a late night read after eating.  His stomach growled at him as he did, but thankfully there were no snooty scholars hanging around to glare at his belly and shush him as if he could control it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ____________  
> You're not missing anything! I made this short on purpose.  
> ____________


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please reread the previous chapter! Changed quite a bit. :)

The researchers eventually returned, but Dorian did not.  In fact, not long after the researchers left their piles of books and blew out their candles, Iron Bull decided it was also time for him to leave as well.  Instead of vigilantly staking out the library to find Dorian, he'd gotten distracted.  He rationalized that it was a productive diversion considering the culprit was the book he'd seen Lelianna and the Dorian talking over, earlier.  A spell tome as confusing and intimidating as any, he was surprised to find that most of them were marriage rites and rituals from Tevinter.  Despite definitely being from the Imperium, the book mixed languages from all over the world.  There was even quite a bit of Qunlat.  Iron Bull realized that, despite being beautifully illuminated on every other page, the tome was more of a journal & had likely never been published.  An old, personal journal belonging to either a scholar with morbid curiosity or a power-hungry maleficar.  Iron Bull knew, not only because of the content but also the handwriting that the journal was not Dorian's work.

The spells within were practically savage. The Vints were nothing if not absolutely fucking terrifying when it came to ownership of one another.

Iron Bull wanted to feel worried that someone he cared so deeply for had even looked at such a thing.  Remembering Lelianna's cool dismissal of Dorian's request for help soothed him.  If there were truly something to worry about, she'd already be on top of it and Dorian would probably be tied up in the dungeon to protect himself.  She was brutal but effective in that way.

Still, in the two hours The Bull spent reading the names and effects of every spell, he hadn't found anything that seemed less than horrific.  Spells that left a mage tranquil if they cheated on their spouses.  Spells that kept spouses from disobeying direct orders.  Spells that used desire demons as catalysts for fertility rituals.  Spells that made those with testicles pregnant or made those with wombs inseminators by sending half of their soul to the Fade!  

He balked at the sacrifices that needed to be made for these spells to work.

The blood of fifteen men.  The blood of a dead infant.  The ashes of one's parents.  Complete exsanguination while bonded to a spirit that you could trust to keep you living while assistants fed and hydrated you back to health.  Terrifying.

The spell that truly captivated Iron Bull was the one he almost wished he could cast, himself.

The name of the spell roughly translated to "Heart scoop" or perhaps "Heart slice" and the goal was to remove the romantic and sexual  feelings one has for another.  If The Bull could make himself focus solely on The Inquisitor or Dorian without thoughts about the other, he'd be a lot less heartbroken over seeing them together.  At least he could manage to be jealous of one of them, then.  He wondered what it would be like to hate Dorian. To lump him in with the rest of The Vints and feel disgusted at the very sight of him.  To rightfully accuse him of descending on Haven and stealing Iron Bull's very reason for being there.  Then again, he wondered what it would be like to save Dorian from The Inquisitor's amused arrogance.  To show the lost little Tevinter prince what it was like to truly be worshiped and adored.  To make Trevalyan suffer for his presumption.  His manipulation.  For that small part of him that thought the trade for the glowing burden on his hand was full access to the attention of whomever he fancied most in the moment.

At that moment, Iron Bull hated and loved them both.

The "heart slice" called for a few difficult to obtain roots and herbs along with the usual clear skies and flagon of river water that most spells required.  What stood out to Iron Bull was the need for the seed of the person to be sliced off one's heart.  The seed would only be effective if "extracted" under a moon like the one that hung heavy above Skyhold, that night.

A chill shuddered through Iron Bull.  He wondered where Dorian was but didn't leave his perch on Dorian's favorite chair. The man would either come to the library or Iron Bull had no real hope of finding him outside his bedroom, anyway.

Following the researchers downstairs, Iron Bull decided that it was finally late enough to just return to his rooms and go to sleep.  He supposed giving Dorian's room a little listen to see if the man had returned would calm his nerves.  Dorian was no fool.  Well, if he was, at least Lelianna wasn't one.  Iron Bull almost regretted leaving Krem behind.  He'd let himself get worried over nothing.

The grounds were beautifully still as Iron Bull crossed the courtyard.  He had the option of walking through hallways to get to his tower, but the shorter walk was one that required a trip past the sparring yard and several market stalls.  Not a soul was outside except himself and Cole. He could see the ghostly boy resting on a window's ledge high above.  They were far enough apart that he couldn't tell if the kid was awake or not.  So, he waved.  Cole waved back with enthusiasm and then fell.  Iron Bull's heart leapt into his throat, but in mid-air Cole simply disappeared.

He was glad the boy wasn't hurt, but it freaked him out to see such blatant magic use from the known spirit.

Iron Bull shivered.

Cole materialized in front of him and, thankfully, some part of Iron Bull had been expecting it.

"I've asked you a million times not to do that" Iron Bull complained.

"Not one million times.  This is time thirty-eight."

"Cole..." Iron Bull growled.

Cole tilted his head, slightly.  Iron Bull wondered how someone that wanted to help so much ignored such simple requests.

"Dorian asked me to bring you to him when I saw you."

"He sent you looking for me?"

"No.  He said to bring you when I saw you.  I see you, now.  May I bring you?"

Iron Bull allowed himself to be lead to Dorian's bedroom.  Thinking of what he'd seen in the spellbook, he worried that they would find Dorian half dressed and fully expecting Iron Bull to fall into his bed.  

As much as he'd fantasized about scooping one of the other men from his own heart, he'd never do such a terrible thing.  He'd heard that seed magic was far more insidious than blood magic.  There were rumors among soldiers that the disgusting darkspawn broodmothers of the Deep Roads had first formed because of this reprehensible practice.  

Instead of finding Dorian naked on a druffalo-skin rug, they found Dorian in full travel armor.  His staff leaning against a large pack. A pile of tiny lyrium potions were on his bed next to the small bandolier he usually kept underneath his robes to protect the stash.

"Ah, Iron Bull!' Dorian exclaimed, his face and mood a happy reflection of the Dorian Iron Bull had originally fallen in love with.  None of the shifty-eyed depression he'd seen on the mage, recently.

"Did I help?" Cole asked, his tone what passed for hopeful coming from him.

"Oh, definitely," Dorian thanked Cole. "You can help more if you travel with us.  A party of three is far safer than two, after all."

"Traveling?" 

"Oh, sorry, Bull," Dorian sat down the bag he was stuffing and approached the Qunari.  His smile was wide but upon closer inspection seemed sleep-deprived and a little crazed.  "The Inquisitor is a fool for going dragon hunting without us, wouldn't you agree?"

Iron Bull narrowed his eyes at the mage.

"I do believe that if we leave right now and ride hard, we'll catch up with them in a matter of hours.  They will have set up camp, already, and we'll reach them long before morning."

Iron Bull folded his arms and tilted his head back.  Expression suspicious at best.

"I'm glad he took Solas, but the other two don't have our pacing.  Our rhythm.  He'll let his guard down thinking they can cover him and end up injured.  And poor Solas!  We can't have that old man running circles while casting spells.  His robes will be alight before the Dragon can take a second breath."

Iron Bull let Dorian ramble.  The mage had obviously expected him to jump in by that point.  He knew nervous men eventually tripped on their own words.  

"Bull..." Dorian laughed nervously and took another step forward.  He placed a warm hand on Iron Bull's wrist.  So close to holding hands.  "I can't let him go out there without me and I know better than to travel alone."

Iron Bull wanted to believe him.  He wanted to.

"Leaving in the morning will be safer and we can take someone else with us.  We're all used to fighting in fours, anyway," Iron Bull suggested.

Iron Bull's heart sank when Dorian started to look shifty and uncomfortable.

"I already can't sleep and waiting longer will just mean I'm more exhausted when we find them.  Plus, isn't it always better to move towards a stationary target than a moving one?  We'll definitely catch up, tonight."

Iron Bull didn't understand.  He knew he had no proof that the Heart Slice was Dorian's intention.  Yet, it was the one that made the most sense.  He'd been trained nearly from birth to connect the dots between abstract ideas.  To be a spy.  He knew how to figure out motives and secret actions.  His gut told him he wasn't wrong.   It didn't make sense to him, though.  If Dorian's goal was truly to use the spell on himself, did he really plan to slice Trevelyan from his heart?  He wondered if the mage wanted to get rid of both of them.  One blissful threesome under the heavy moon and then the chance to again host a heart as fresh and virginal as snow on a hilltop.  Iron Bull wondered if Cole saw Dorian's intentions.  He turned and looked at the kid but something about Cole seemed off, as well.

Head hanging low, Cole's floppy hat covered most of his face.  He stood behind Iron Bull with clenched fists and his bottom lip sucked into his mouth.  Fear clutched at Iron Bull's heart.  Dorian had already had some kind of conversation with Cole and had obviously instructed the boy to keep quiet on the subject.  Surely, Cole didn't think it was helpful for Iron Bull to ignorantly assist him with something far worse than blood magic.

"What will help him is what he asked.  What will help you is helping him.  I know you only want to help, Iron Bull.  Dorian's happiness makes you happy.  I've seen it.  I know." Cole finally blurted something out.  Perhaps he thought it was vague enough to not upset Dorian's request.

Dorian's eyes widened looking between the two other men in the room.


	15. Chapter 15

Dorian had a hard time regaining his composure at that point.  Iron Bull idly wondered how much of Dorian's happiness in the past had been feigned to avoid being a burden to his new friends.  Had Dorian, in growing closer to everyone, decided to show more of his true self?  Was Iron Bull any less in love with him as he began to share his smile less often?  The Qunari realized that Dorian's reluctance to express joy in recent months only urged him to work harder to support and love Dorian.  He was almost disgusted with himself for being so smitten.  He felt no different about The Inquisitor.   He wondered what his fellow Qunari would think if they knew.

The Iron Bull.  Genuinely in love.  Not only that but with two humans of high birth.  They'd probably nickname him something small and fragile like "prince charming."  No amount of intimidating horn height could overshadow such slanderous affection.  It just simply wasn't allowed.  If he were ever too open about his love, he'd lose his job.  The Ben-Hassrath would consider him compromised.  Broken, even.  

Cole placed a hand on the back of Iron Bull's harness.  As much as the spirit loved to help, he didn't often touch.  A glance over his shoulder was all Iron Bull needed to see that Cole's posture still shouted his discomfort.  He didn't know if it was because he didn't want to risk ending up with Dorian's undivided attention or if it was for Cole's protection, but Iron Bull made a decision, then.

"I'm not going, Dorian.  You're not going, either.  And I'll stay right here in this room all night if I have to," Iron Bull stated firmly.  He heard the brim of Cole's floppy hat cut through the air.  Another glance and he could see the gratitude on Cole's face.

"I doubt you could stop me if you tried!"

Iron Bull sighed.

"Honestly, I'd die if you fought me in earnest since I'm standing here without a weapon," Iron Bull held up his hands to emphasize the fact that he was unarmed.  "...but I'll take my chances considering you'd never hurt a friend and this would be a two on one fight."

Cole nodded enthusiastically and pulled out his blades.

"Iron Bull, I can give you one.  Fights require weapons.  Dangerous," the spirit supplied.

"Thanks, Cole, but that won't be necessary," Iron Bull tried to fight down the urge to chuckle.

"We wouldn't kill you, Dorian," Cole said to reassure the mage when Dorian took a tiny step backwards.

"I know you won't, Cole," Dorian responded nervously.  He obviously couldn't scratch the thought of being mortally wounded out of his mind.  He turned his attention back to Iron Bull.  "You trust me far too much."

"You keep saying that," Iron Bull said, making sure to yawn as he spoke.  Dorian had to know that he'd trust him no matter what.  That they were at least that close.

"You... and him," Dorian continued.  Somehow, Iron Bull knew he meant The Inquisitor and not Cole.  Dorian clenched his fist.  He seemed fidgety and his eyes flicked to the door behind Iron Bull.

"Um... let me add that if you fling one spell at me, I'm taking out your wardrobe, first," Iron Bull stood into Dorian's line of sight.  The mage, cowed, looked to his own boots.

"Hats and hoods.  Boxed.  Beneath the bed."

"Thank you, Cole," Iron Bull smiled, "You slice up that box if he attacks me."

"This is helping.  He doesn't want to escape, anymore!"

"Stop reading my mind!" Dorian hadn't looked up, but a tiny lick of flames momentarily circled his right hand.  Iron Bull was too tall to see his face and glanced at Cole to see if the spirit would clarify where that burst of emotion had come from.  They'd all asked Cole to stop from time to time.  He didn't understand why Dorian wasn't used to it, already.

"You asked me to."

Iron Bull immediately stooped low to luck into Dorian's face.  The mage turned his head to the side and only whispered back at Cole.

"I'm asking you to stop, now!!!"

"Iron Bull, he'll feel better if I leave."  That same ghostly hand rested lightly on his back.  He was beginning to think this was Cole's way of showing desperation.

"Oh, alright.  Don't worry about the hat box, then," Iron Bull joked.  He wanted to lighten the mood, but it was much too heavy.  He wanted to sink to the floor, pull Dorian into his arms, and tell him everything would be okay.  He knew Tevinter was full of Blood Magic and magisters that thought they could keep it secret.  He'd never expected Dorian to try such a thing.

Cole blipped out of existence.  Iron Bull wasn't shaken by that, though.  He knew the kid wouldn't use the door.

"Iron Bull... we never talked about what happened in The Fade, you and I."

Memories the qunari had surpressed came surging back into his consciousness.  The greatest fear he'd ever known coupled with his desire to love and protect his leader and his friend.  Solas had even seemed on  edge as they physically crawled their way out of the abyss.  For the one person that loved spirits to shudder as they pushed forward.  Iron Bull shivered at the recollection.  He was almost angry with Dorian for bringing it up.  Yet, he approached Dorian and took the mage into his arms.

He'd spent half his day comforting Trevelyan.  Why not rip the rest of his heart into shreds by comforting Dorian?  He'd comfort them both right back into each other's arms.  Then, he figured it might have been time to leave Skyhold for good.  He could leave a few Chargers behind to tie up his loose ends.  They could regroup after a short vacation and move on to the next mission.  The Qunari trusted Iron Bull enough to make his own decisions about staying or going as long as the reports were clear.  This way, he could avoid ever having his love of his home ever conflicting with his love of two human nobles.

He could make one final Ben-Hassrath Report.  One that read "Inquisiton" in the subject-line and "Meets and Exceeds Expectations" in the conclusion.  

The report need not be lengthy.  A quick list of the major players, their suspected motives, and their expected outcomes.  A prediction on how The Inquisition would fare in the coming decade.  A decent inventory of the amount of mages and weapons at their disposal.  He could sum it all up with the fact that it seemed a stable institution dedicated to peacekeeping.  That the Inquisiton, insofar as it was a revolution AGAINST the chantry, would strongly consider and deeply respect any requests made by the Qun.  That they could trust Josephine's correspondence from that moment on.  

Dorian slid his hands over Iron Bull's biceps.  At first, it seemed the mage would pull away, but he actually pulled the arms tighter around himself and fully stepped into the embrace.  His ear to Iron Bull's chest and body fully pressed against the other man.

"You've always been much too touchy-feely," Dorian criticized. His voice slightly muffled by Iron Bull's bosom.  Iron Bull wouldn't force him to talk about the Fade.  He didn't know if it was because he wanted to allow Dorian room to lead the conversation where it felt comfortable or if it was because he, himself, wasn't ready to ever talk about what happened, there.

"I don't see where you're trying to get away," Iron Bull whispered into Dorian's hair.

"It's... quite nice," Dorian admitted, "For now, at least."

"Whenever you're done, I won't be offended."

"It's just, you're always so prone to touch me.  I don't think I've ever gotten used to it."

Iron Bull's mind boggled.  As far as he knew, this was his first time hugging Dorian.  Sure, he placed a hand on the man's shoulder sometimes when he caught him reading.  He also patted Dorian's thigh periodically when he was winning at Wicked Grace.  But he did the same to Cullen.  To Varric.  Cole.

"You're the only man that's expressed attraction towards me and managed to also treat me like a brother," Dorian murmured.  "I've honestly never seen you touch The Inquisitor... but I never know if it's because you like me more or because he's got the intimidating title."

"Do you want me to like you more?"

"I..." Dorian sighed.  "I don't know what I want from you.  I don't know what I want from him."

"I heard you made a pretty heavy decision either last night or in the wee hours of the morning.  He thinks you don't like him at all."

"He deserves so much better than me.  He's such..."

"Don't make this about him, Dorian."

"He..."

"You."

Dorian, probably without realizing it, was rubbing circles along the muscles in Iron Bull's arms.  The gesture was soothing in that it felt nice for Iron Bull and the qunari knew that Dorian was actively trying to think of what to say.  Not shutting down.  Not getting defensive.  Thinking.  Perhaps Iron Bull should have hugged the man a long time ago.

"You also touch me during battle," Dorian said next.  Not exactly what Iron Bull had expected.  He bit his lip to ask the man why he'd even brought up the Fade.

"I do?"

"He'll cover me with a barrage of arrows if enemies come near," Dorian explained.  "But you... You've tackled me to the ground to take an arrow for me.  You've grabbed me and turned me away from an oncoming spell.  You've even..."

Dorian was chuckling, then.

"What?"

"Iron Bull, the last time we fought a Dragon, it came storming towards me.  I took off running.  Next thing I know I'm being carried along at breakneck speed!  I thought the Dragon had picked him up in it's talons and flown off with me... but it was you.  You tucked me under your arm like some raggedy plaything and carried me to safety.  I'd never felt so..."

"Loved?"

Dorian shook his head rapidly.  His face rubbing against Iron Bull's chest.

"Oh, Maker! I was going to say 'protected!' but I... I suppose, yes."

 Iron Bull grunted in response and rubbed a hand up and down Dorian's back.

"In the Fade, the demon likened me to my father."

Iron Bull grunted, again.  He thought it was important to just let Dorian talk.  The mage told him about a stern but effective man that carried the legacy of some of Tevinter's most powerful mages.  A man married to an incredible spellbinder.  A couple that could bring the country to its knees if they wished.  He was the product of that.  Yet, his family saw him as a waste of that power.  Someone that would amount to absolutely nothing.  No offspring.  No desire to maintain the status quo.  A revolutionary spirit even when he was a child.  Dorian hadn't wanted to practice magic by murdering random animals.  He hadn't wanted to test incantations on writhing slaves.  Though adept at fighting, he'd only wanted to fight his own father and mother when they would take the time.  He'd known that anyone less powerful risked their lives against him.  His childhood, he'd always thought, proved that he wasn't like his power hungry peers.  They way they'd rejoiced in conquering turned his stomach.

Yet.

Before he left Tevinter.  After his father had attempted a dangerous and desperate blood magic spell to bind his sexuality.

The man had done far worse.  He'd looked at Dorian with a sad and tired expression, looking old beyond his years, sat down in the nearest chair, pressed crying eyes into his hands and shouted at his son, "I USED TO BE LIKE YOU.  I USED TO CARE.  I USED TO DREAM!  WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THERE'S NO OTHER OPTION FOR YOU?  WHY CAN'T YOU JUST DO WHAT YOU'RE MEANT TO DO?"

Far worse than knowing his father would mutilate his spirit, his father had told him that one can grow up compassionate and still end up cruel.  The words had kept Dorian awake nearly every night since.

His first break from the pain had been Trevelyan.

Yet, the demon had grown branches on the idea that his father had already rooted in him.

There was no happy ending for Dorian.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't exactly finished (content: YES, details: No) I've put off posting it because I wanted to add more detail to their gestures and the background. Yet, somehow, inspiration hasn't hit and I'd rather post it unfinished than get hung up on something small & lose momentum in the plot. Thank you for your understanding & your patience!

Iron Bull, somehow, expected a less traumatizing epiphany to come out of Dorian while speaking of their Fade adventure.  How he'd been so gullible, he didn't know.  After all, his own message from the demon had shaken him to his very core.  He didn't know if it would help or harm to speak about it with Dorian.  Yet, it seemed unfair to leave the mage leaning on him with his entire soul on display and say nothing.  What was love if not vulnerability?  He guided Dorian over to his bed, never letting go of him.  Even as they took a seat, their arms remained wrapped around one another.  They took comfort in how their heartbeats aligned.   Iron Bull was definitely the type to touch.  He touched easily and he touched often.  He'd denied himself the freedom to touch Trevelyan and Pavus.  He'd denied himself the freedom to care for either one, fully.  As something more than a pair of colleagues.  More than a couple of friends.

He took a deep breath and then sighed into Dorian's hair. The shorter man shuddered but didn't pull away.  He murmured something about how it had tickled.

Iron Bull then told him about the time he'd left Seheron and, of his own free will, turned himself in to the re-educators of the Qun.  Dorian gasped.  He'd only heard horror stories about Qunari re-education. How it was brainwashing.  Practically made non-mages tranquil.  How most re-educated members of the Qun lost their freewill and only became tools to serve the Qun.

Iron Bull ignored the gasp and pushed forward in his explanation.  He'd been so filled with despair for his fallen soldiers.  So filled with bloodlust and vengeance.  He'd known that a few days longer on the battlefield would turn him into nothing more than a mindless killing machine.  He'd kill his own.  He'd kill himself, if anyone there was lucky.  No better than a savage Tal-vashoth.  Somehow, his people had viewed his recognition of his condition and his willingness to return as an asset.  A sign of the purest devotion possible.  The mark of a great leader.  His request for stricter boundaries.  For a tigher cage.  For a helpful hand and a watchful eye had backfired on him.  As if the very universe plotted against him and his quest for sanity, they gave him a short vacation to indulge in his favorite foods and breed for strong, dedicated children.  Then, they gave him his assignment in Thedas.  The assignment that eventually led him to The Inquisition.

"It sounds like a happy ending to most people.  Especially humans.  So, I've never really tried to explain it to anyone," Iron Bull explained to Dorian.  The Qunari were a group-oriented people.  Every action was meant to serve all.  That meant not a soul starved.  Not a soul went without purpose and work.  Not a soul suffered alone or celebrated alone.  It was far deeper than family and still, somehow, less personal than family as well.  He understood how some humans thought it was sad.  When Dorian opened his lips to respond, Iron Bull braced himself for ignorance or disdain.

"You don't want to lose your mind or lose control," Dorian explained as if he'd lived his whole life between Iron Bull's horns.  "You're so far away from those that would know what to do with you.  You're so far away from the place where you feel the most safe and the most in control.  I'm so sorry."

Dorian's voice quivered on his apology and Iron Bull felt his own heart swell.  How could his heart have chosen so right and so wrong all at once?

"I never want to turn my back on the Qun, but my life keeps pulling me further and further away."

"I'm afraid a rope will snap and I'll end up right back where I started and you're afraid you'll never be allowed to return."

"And, somehow, our fears feel similar," Iron Bull grumbled.

"The demon in the fade kind of ruined the false hope I'd built up," Dorian grumbled in response.

"Mine, too.  ...but we did survive.  And, in most ways that count, the demon didn't."  Somehow, Iron Bull's voice didn't have the volume and timber that it usually carried when speaking out triumph in battle.  The battle had been hard won and they'd lost so much in the process.

"And fears are only fears.  They're not exactly prophecies."

"Fears make us careful.  Help us make good decisions.  You could go back to Tevinter and end up doing a lot of good."

"Or, I could stay..." Dorian had wriggled himself out of Iron Bull's arms just enough to look the qunari in the eye.  "I really could just stay... here.  Do you... really want to... well... leave?  Go back to your home?"

Iron Bull fought not to close his eyes.  Dorian had looked at him to read his expression, after all.  He always knew when someone was.  He always knew how to control his face, as well.  His features hardened and he could see frustration growing on Dorian's brow as the mage realized he'd shut him out on purpose.

"Dorian, you speak too fondly of Tevinter for me to believe you'd give it up."

"I've told you what my options are.  You're giving me nothing in return!"

"I'd love to meet you halfway on this, but I honestly don't know.  You're asking me this as if we've got some sort of history together.  You and Trevelyan seem to forget I've been nothing but a flirty acquaintance you've talked to at the Tavern."

"Must you mention him, right now?"

"Must I? ...Oh, fuck you, Dorian," Iron Bull was beginning to stand and Dorian put all his comparatively feeble weight into keeping him from doing so.  Iron Bull allowed himself to be anchored to the bed, dropping back down with a thud and a grumble.

"He and I are finished!"

"Honestly, I don't doubt that at all considering I found you and Lelianna arguing over a fucking Tevinter bloodmagic spellbook full of freaky relationship bullshit.  But hell, if you'd pull some shit like that on him, how am I supposed to trust you!?"

Dorian looked to the floor in horrified silence as if stunned by a spell, himself.

"Dorian, how in all Thedas did you think that book would help you?"

Iron Bull didn't want to make assumptions about which spell.  But he knew.  He just knew.

"It... wouldn't affect.... him." Dorian let the words stagger out and fall dead from lack of confidence.

"You're not sure of that.  You've probably never even used anything like that spell in your whole life.  Not even to bind the will of a chicken."  Iron Bull could see that kind of magic putting a weight on Dorian's very soul.  He imagined him not being able to conceal his guilt.  His lack of sleep.  His regrets.

"If it hurt anyone, it would only be me!" Dorian had ripped himself out of Iron Bull's arms, finally.  He stood and looked as if he were desperately trying to figure out what to do with his hands.  It was the same nervous energy that had built up in Iron Bull and made him attempt to crush the dinner table, earlier in the night.  The mage paced, instead.

"Why the fuck do you think any of us would be okay with YOU getting hurt?"

"I just can't take the pain or the uncertainty any..."

"Selfish," Iron Bull cut Dorian off with a word.  The mage stopped moving and stared at him.  That had stung.  Perhaps harder than what Trevelyan had yelled at him.  Perhaps more than his father.  Iron Bull had always been a place of solace for him.  A listening ear.  A helping hand.

"Human," Iron Bull growled out with contempt.  "self-righteous, noble... fuckers.  With your fickle hearts and false altruism. Both of you."

"What would you know?" Dorian's voice seemed to almost crack.  His throat suddenly dry and tight as if he'd never been nourished in his life.  As if he were dying at that very moment.  "The Qun doesn't even allow relationships!  You dare to insult us when you literally have no experience at all?  You don't know how hard this is.  How much we have to sacrifice for each other."

Iron Bull scoffed.  Of course he'd never called anyone a wife or husband, but he wasn't completely ignorant.  He almost felt pity for Dorian if the man couldn't think of anything to strike at but stereotypes about his race and religion.

"Why did I ever choose you over him?" Dorian sighed to himself.

"OH!  So you had finally chosen me?  Thanks for letting me know!"

"I WAS JUST ASKING YOU WHAT YOU FUCKING WANTED TO..."

"YOU'RE ASKING ME ABOUT THE FUTURE WHEN YOU HAVEN'T EVEN ASKED ME TO LUNCH!"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS A FUCKING FAIRYTALE?"

"OH, I GUESS IF I LOOKED MORE LIKE PRINCE CHARMING I COULD GET A DATE BEFORE ONE OF YOU TRIES TO JUMP ON MY DICK OR FORCE ME TO ADOPT YOU."

"WHO?  WHO'S TRYING TO??  WHAT ARE YOU EVEN!?"

"YEAH.  IT ONLY TOOK A FEW HOURS FOR YOUR PRECIOUS INQUISITOR TO COME KNOCKING."

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD!" Dorian had gestured vaguely to the west.  He then rounded on Iron Bull, jabbing a finger into his chest,"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!!!"

"OH, SO HE JUST LEFT US BOTH HERE FOR NO REASON!"

"HE PROBABLY LEFT YOU HERE TO STOP YOU FROM POISONING HIM."

"I TOLD YOU THE SPELL WOULDN'T DO HIM ANY HAR.."

"Enough." Came Vivienne's soft whisper from behind Dorian's closed door.  "You two, if you're in any reasonable state of dress will adjourn to my quarters for pre-dawn tea, immediately.  We'll have this settled by breakfast and I'll be damned if anyone in the keep asks me to do anything, today, until I've made up for the sleep you two have stolen from me."

 


	17. Chapter 17

"I've never liked sleeping in towers," Vivienne began as Dorian and Iron Bull entered.  

Integra flitted around her sitting room picking up most of the evidence that she didn't emerge from a glistening cocoon each morning fully made-up and dressed. There were hats and make-up brushes to stick back into storage. A pair of tights. A corset.

"Growing up in a tower full of mischievous mage children meant constantly waking up to the sound of crackling spells and stiffled giggles in the night. Sleeping deeply could mean waking up with a mock vallaslin on your forehead or singed off eyebrows," she continued.  Iron Bull had never heard someone say something so adorable about Circle life.  He wondered if perhaps Vivienne's childhood had been vastly different from the norm.

She was already seated when Dorian and Iron Bull arrived, both sufficiently cowed in her presence. Iron Bull couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to be punished by a Tamassran. He couldn't imagine what was going on in Dorian's mind.  He was almost sure being called before Tevinter magister parents had probably been some sick prelude to magical torture. He fought the strong urge to console the man despite being furious at him.

"That being said," First Inquisitor Vivienne continued,"Almost everyone in this tower can sleep through a shouting match... and I, sadly, cannot."

"Please allow me to be the first to apologize for our transgre..." Dorian had dropped into a courtly bow.

"Absolutely unnecessary, Dorian, my dear," Vivienne cut him off. She gestured for them to take a seat on the couch in front of her. Iron Bull, somehow, felt less comfortable when Integra silently left the room with a bow.

He could barely relax enough to enjoy seeing Vivienne in her nightgown and robe. Both were low-cut, floor-length, and made of a yellow, sheer material.  It was almost golden on her glistening, brown skin.  In any other situation, he'd be panting at the way her nipples reacted to the draft in the room.  He loved how her breasts sagged naturally and the faint stretch-marks on both.  Details her fitted clothing hid well.  She looked less like the all-perfect Andraste going to war and more like a fertility goddess ripe and ready for... Iron Bull wanted that image to distract him from how guilty he felt for waking her.  He wanted to imagine her full lips parted in pleasured gasps as he kissed his way up to her navel.  In any other situation, he would be obviously hard and fighting not to touch himself in front of Madam de Fer.  She'd be as intrigued and disgusted as she usually was by his attention.  Perhaps more comfortable in her dressing gown than her battle robes, she might even tease him with a generous jiggle or quick parting of her legs before sending him away.  He wondered if she ever touched herself to the thought of him.  Whether or not she did it at all.

"Iron Bull, I do realize my sleep ensemble is a distraction, but do keep your jaw and cock off my coffee table."

His hands immediately flew to his crotch and he realized that he wasn't hard at all and definitely wasn't showing.  She chuckled into the tea she'd poured for herself and at that, both men sighed with relief.

"Now, it seems you two were arguing about your relationship." Vivienne observed.  Dorian was holding a cup of tea but not drinking it in earnest.  His careful sips were almost slurps and Vivienne mildly cringed at each one.  Tevinter matters of court and state rarely toyed with the pretense of being fun, social calls.  It didn't surprise her that Dorian was knowledgeable about the technicalities of how to sit and how to hold a cup but not at how to drink.  Iron Bull didn't trust his nervous hands to handle the cup with the required delicacy.   

Dorian glanced at Iron Bull, but the qunari dared not look away from Vivienne. Tamassrans took the unflinching gaze as a declaration of truth in all forthcoming statements.  He knew Vivienne didn't know that or care, but he couldn't shake the habit.

"Your nonexistant relationship is quite exhausting to the rest of us, you know."

"I'd like to say it's none of your business..." Dorian, began.

"Ah, there's that snooty contempt for authority," Vivienne grinned.  "I knew not to take your apology."

"Authority!?"

Again, Dorian looked to Iron Bull for some sort of sign.  A little back up, perhaps.

"It would be no one's business if we could keep it away from the dinner table and, you know, not yell at each other while they're sleeping."

"Also, if you could avoid getting Lelianna's spies involved, I'd be grateful.  Maker knows I dread her thinking she has good reason to send them scurrying through our personal space." Vivienne said, her lips pursed and eyes shooting daggers at Dorian.

"Spies, I...?" Iron Bull's brow furrowed.

"Why would she tell you!" Dorian grimaced.

"We were fresh out of blood mages to consult, considering you were still a few nights short of becoming one.  So, she went with the next best thing.  Me."

Iron Bull groaned.  Suddenly Vivienne's stricken face at dinner made a lot more sense.

"Was it your idea to send Trevelyan away without us?" Dorian asked.  Iron Bull was agitated that Dorian seemed to still be upset about his foiled plans.

"Oh, no dear.  He was just being an ass.  Which, I'm sure you're accustomed to, by now," Vivienne said.  "Perhaps a more clever or lucky one than he knows.  It's your secret to share with him, if you ever choose to.  The blood magic, I mean."

 "It wasn't blood magic," Dorian grumbled.

"Sure, it wasn't," Iron Bull and Vivienne said in unison and with great sarcasm.

"Has it never occurred to either of you that The Inquisitor is, perhaps, a man that feasts instead of simply dining?"

"What?" It was, apparently, Iron Bull and Dorian's turn to speak in unison.

"I'm not usually one to speak in riddles, but I'd like an opportunity to meet with Trevelyan, again, before I return to that topic."

Both men were more than a little annoyed but neither voiced their displeasure.

She stood, then.  Iron Bull couldn't help but take in every inch of her body in the short minutes she gave him to do so.  She smiled at him, her head slightly shaking as if to silently call him a 'very naughty boy.'  He bit his bottom lip.  He would have openly wept at her feet if he thought that would get him into her bed.  He knew, deep down, that nothing ever would.

"You two have great affection for one another.  It's actually quite adorable when you're blushing across the dinner table," she said.  "I think your next argument needs to involve the source of your frustrations... our great Herald of Andraste.  As for you, Iron Bull, we will never be what the qun was for you.  We'd never try to be.  However, we are quite capable of doing what needs doing if the time ever came.  You're as safe here as you are there.  ...and Dorian, we've shown you exactly what we'll do if you take one step near any demons or blood magic.  We're not idiots, you know."

"Wait... just how long were you listening?" Iron Bull asked.

"Assuming you know Lelianna at all, I'd like for you to guess, Bull."

"Ah, you've been on guard duty since Cole and I arrived."

"Cullen had first shift, considering magic was involved."

"That little shit..." Dorian grumbled.

"Cole didn't betray you.  He did what you needed," Vivienne explained.

"Which was..." Iron Bull was still thoroughly confused about Cole's involvement.

"Another secret for Dorian to share or keep.  Good morning, boys.  See you at breakfast."

She calmly ushered them out of her rooms.  In the hall, Iron Bull caught what was, perhaps, his first and last glance of Dorian acting like a petulant child.  The mage kicked toward Vivienne's door, but stopped just short of actually connecting with it.

"Did that help?" Iron Bull asked.

"OF COURSE IT DIDN'T!"

"Um... see you at breakfast."

Dorian all but deflated, his reaction to Iron Bull's mundane goodbye a confused glare.

"Aren't you angry with me?" the mage asked.

"Of course I am.  ...but, honestly, I'm more tired and hungry than angry, right now."

"What happens to us, now?"

"One things for sure, there is no 'us' and I'm not getting in the middle of whatever happened with you two."


	18. Chapter 18

A week passed.  Trevelyan's return, despite the shouts and celebrations from gate to throne, was ignored in the tower where Iron Bull napped and Dorian entertained a guest. Not a soul told either man of his return.  Not a soul came to ask either of them to look at the dragon's horned skull.

Integra probably considered doing so, but after seeing Iron Bull sulk for a week straight, she wasn't sure if he'd even listen to her. After the awkward breakfast following their argument, the qunari had made a decision to only take meals in his sleeping chambers. Even the tavern was too full of concerned faces and attempts to cheer him up.  Unlike the qun and unlike life as a leader on the road, The Inquisition gave Iron Bull privacy to mourn.  Even if he was only sulking over two broken friendships, he thought the time to process his loss was a luxury to fully indulge.

Dorian, on the other hand, had started to socialize more.  He'd never realized how much of his free time lived and died in Trevelyan's bed until the man was away.  From the moment they'd met, the two of them were practically inseparable.  Even on missions, they often walked side by side and sometimes shared a tent.  There were times when they let Vivienne play the diplomat while the two of them surveyed the landscape.  There were times where they let Iron Bull hunt for food and fur while they bathed in nearby ponds.  Even during times where The Inquisitor's attention was exhausting and a little annoying, Dorian had never managed to pull away.  The Inquisitor made him feel needed and appreciated.  Lusted after.  It was addicting to be the focus of such positive attention.  Especially after growing up under a constant torrent of criticism and ridicule.  

Dorian had gone from doing nothing right to doing nothing wrong.  The pedestal felt nice.  But not quite comfortable.  Not secure.  Not real.

He hated to admit that he appreciated Iron Bull's tendency to call out his worst habits.  A firm, friendly, and brotherly tone to guide him was something he'd never known in his entire life.  He hated to admit that he appreciated Vivienne's tendency to completely shut him down when he was being self-destructive. She was like the sister he'd never had.  Perhaps with a sister like her, he'd still be in Tevinter.  She would have stood up to his parents without getting him into too much trouble.  He would have learned to balance who he was with who he was to become.  His appreciation for Vivienne was easier to stomach, however.  Iron Bull, he also wanted to fuck.  Daily.  Forever.

Dorian's socializing took him to all the people he usually avoided.  Blackwall, because he too often smelled of horses.  Varric, because he always told tales that made Dorian feel like the dwarf knew everything about him. Sera, because he had no idea what she was saying.  Ever.  Somehow, he realized how much he'd been missing out on.  Blackwall taught him how to balance his staff while riding larger and faster horses than he was used to.  Varric told a distracting story, for once.  Dorian had laughed until he was in tears and then, out of the blue, Varric had hugged him.  Sera, tired when he'd arrived at her door, had simply invited him to cuddle with her by the window.  They looked out on the yard and made up what they thought the people outside were saying.  The fake conversations eventually centered around Vivienne's tits and the two shared a few laughs.  He only left when the elf started to tickle him.  Dorian had the most embarrassing, sniffling sort of laugh when tickled and he glared at her for finding out.

At the end of the week, his socializing took him on a mild apology tour.  Vivienne had accepted the apology he gave her, then.  There had been some grovelling involved.  Lelianna waved him off with a disgusted noise to rival even Cassandra's worst.  He knew she'd be harder to win just because she considered his antics a waste of Inquisition resources.  Cole hadn't understood, but did give him an awkward hug.

"You like hugs, now," Cole had explained.  "Varric's smell like an ex-boyfriend.  Sera's are too prickly.  Almost as sharp as mine.  Vivienne's are the most polite.  Like your mother's but with more love.  I know Iron Bull's are your favorite, but I cannot make Iron Bull hug you."

"It's alright, Cole.  This is quite nice."

"I'm glad I could help."

"You're a good friend, Cole."

"..."

Dorian couldn't help but chuckle when he pulled back and saw the elated grin on Cole's face.  He had only seen Cole look at Varric like that and it warmed his heart.

"Yes, Cole.  We're friends.  I'm sure you'd noticed."

"Smiling helped you more?  You are a good friend, too."

"Smiles are also nice.  I'm not a good friend.  Maybe you need a few more friends before you understand how I.."

"Used me," Cole cut him off.  He was surprised the spirit knew.  "Yes.  You used a lot of us.  But you were hurting.  We forgive you.  All of us. You needed us and we're your friends."

"Cole, I don't think I'll ever tell Iron Bull or The Inquisitor what I asked you. Can you keep it a secret, for me?"

"I told Lelianna."

"Yes, Cole.  I know.  She told Vivienne, as well."

"You asked me a question I couldn't answer.  I'm sorry."

"You gave me the perfect answer when you said they both weighed the same."

"In your heart.  I can't feel a difference.  I couldn't answer you."

"That is my answer, Cole.  Maybe I should have asked a better question."

Cole's body tensed and he pulled out of the hug.

"He heard us."

Dorian sighed.  He knew he'd had too good a week for his luck to not run out.  He stood up from the couch and stretched.  The door wasn't locked, but he could at least greet his new guest properly instead of continuing to hold onto Cole.

"Come in," Dorian shouted to whomever stood outside.  They still hadn't knocked.

The door cracked open and one of Iron Bull's horns slid into view.

"I can come back another time..." the qunari offered.

"No need, Cole was just..." Dorian only jumped slightly when Cole disappeared.

"Makes you jump too, huh?"

"Every single time, without fail," Dorian grumbled.

"I guess I should start out by saying sorry for eavesdropping.  But I came by to tell you that he's back."

Iron Bull slowly eased into the door and shut it behind himself.  He'd been moving with less gusto since he found out Vivienne could hear almost everything in the tower.  Despite being up to guard Dorian the night she'd told them that, he doubted she mentioned it for no reason at all.

"Thanks for the warning," Dorian felt dread and excitement in equal amounts. "I was worried that you were him when Cole said someone heard us."

"He, uh... visited me a minute ago."Iron Bull continued.  "I followed him down thinking he'd come here, next.  You know, to take Viv's advice on the three of us talking together."

"...and he walked right by my door without stopping," Dorian said.  "Of course he did!"

"No, he stopped.  Listened for a second.  Did that thing where he laughs to himself, said Cole's name... and then he left."

"He's such a pervert.  I can't imagine what he's thinking," Dorian shoved his hands into his pockets and started pacing, a few of his steps taking him closer to Iron Bull.

"Yeah, I'm assuming he thinks Cole is his replacement since he confirmed that I'm not."

"Sex?  With Cole!  Oh, come now, that's ridiculous!"

"I dunno, Cole's a sweet guy with a nice little body and a cute face."

"Thank you," came Cole's voice from Dorian's wardrobe.

They both screamed and Dorian all but leapt into Iron Bull's arms.  Iron Bull wouldn't have caught him if he did because he was too busy almost shoving his horns through Dorian's shut door trying to escape.

"COLE!!!!"

The two men screamed at the tall piece of furniture in unison.  Cole gingerly climbed out of the wooden fixture and softly closed the door behind himself.

"I'm sorry.  You said my name.  I was curious."

"Any reason why you're hiding in Dorian's robes?"

"I thought you wouldn't want to know I was listening," Cole explained.  Dorian scoffed.

"Any time you're in my room, I want to know!"

"Same goes for me," Iron Bull added.  He had a giant hand over his chest, trying to will his heart to stop beating so fast.

"Even at night?  When you're sleeping?"

Iron Bull visibly shuddered.

"Please, don't tell me that you watch us sleep," the qunari begged.

"I..." Cole's eyes shifted from one man to the other, "...won't tell you."

"Cole, get out.  DON'T disappear.  Walk out of the door.  Shut it behind you."

"You're not angry.  You're amused."

"I'm slightly angry," Dorian corrected him.

"Oh... yes.  I do feel that."

"See you at dinner, Cole," Iron Bull frowned down at the spirit, shaking his head in disapproval.

"I'm glad you two are talking.  You feel like always, today."

Cole walked out of the door but used a terrifying burst of magic to shut it behind himself.

"Do you ever think he's just fucking with us?  Like, he's got a sense of humor and freaking us out plays into it?"

"Literally every time he goes poof," Iron Bull answered Dorian's question.

"I am glad to know that we feel like always," Dorian said with a meek smile.

"Feelings are overrated."

"Bull, why must you..."

"Nope.  Not having that conversation.  Or any arguments.  See you at dinner, Dorian."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmmmm... this is really dirty. Don't read it at work. Or do. You're an adult. Make your own decisions. XD In the comments, let me know if I need to add more warnings or tags. I can't decide if this particular act is outside the realm of "what people expect at some point in dirty fics."

 At Dinner, the table didn't feel split, for once.  Blackwall yelled over Cullen's uproarious laughter to ask Dorian how the horse-riding was going.  Trevelyan, sitting at Iron Bull's right, as usual, had given his former boyfriend an amused look.  Dorian, practically blushing, had looked away from The Inquisitor, but answered Blackwall's inquiry with a smile and another of many thanks.  Cassandra, curious about what the older man had taught Dorian, actually talked to the soldier.  Cullen's laughter died down, only to be set off, again.

"What is tickling you so much, Commander?" The question slid out of Lelianna's voice with no annoyance.  She was genuinely curious.

That's when the whole table finally noticed Varric whispering in the man's ear.

"Uh... it's a long story," the dwarf apologized.  "Same one I told you, the other day, Dorian."

The same look from The Inquisitor.  Dorian hated and loved the scrutiny.  Iron Bull couldn't help but feel slightly jealous.  The man would have Dorian back in no time and he'd end up alone.

"Is it the story you butchered, earlier this week?" Sera asked, peaking around Cole to look at Dorian.

"I told you, right then, that you should just go to Varric!"

"Naw, it's funnier watching you try to be funny.  You made a complete arse of yourself,"n Sera chuckled.

"Such wonders," Trevelyan smiled into his goblet before taking a sip.  "Perhaps I should leave, more often!"

"Perhaps, you should," Iron Bull said, flatly.  The chatter at the table paused and he refused to make eye contact with anyone.

Vivienne cleared her throat.  He avoided her gaze.  He knew the motherly disappointment she'd be showing him.

"Inquisitor, it's been so long since we've had tea," she said after clearing her throat a second time and realizing Iron Bull was going to continue eating as if he hadn't just killed the happiest conversation they'd all had in weeks.

"Ah, so it has been!"

"Would you care to join me sometime after dinner?"

Dorian groaned and Vivienne cut her eyes to him for a moment.  The Inquisitor chuckled at his former boyfriend and simply nodded to her.

"I have nothing else planned for the evening.  It will be nice to catch up."

"Dorian, Iron Bull," Vivienne continued.  Dorian's head snapped up as if he'd been poked but Iron Bull decided to remain stubborn.  He stuffed his mouth full of bread to avoid responding.  Vivienne didn't care.  "I hope you'll keep your appointment with me, tonight.  There's enough of my Orlesian Red blend left to make exactly one pot.  The four of us should share it."

"Red tea?  Sounds weird," Sera chimed in.

"I don't think I've ever had anything besides black and green," Blackwall added.

"Green tea?" Cullen's face showed his disgust.

"Speaking of green..." Varric started before whispering something else in Cullen's ear that sent him into a fit of giggles.

"Stop! Stop!  STOP VARRIC!  You'll have me crying in a moment!!"

"Oh, no.  Please continue, Varric.  I heard the Commander is pretty when he cries," Cassandra chuckled while nudging Josephine.

"Josie!  Did you really tell Cassandra!?"  Cullen could barely stop laughing long enough to look betrayed.

"Now, this a story I want to hear," Lelianna turned her focus away from the uncomfortably stiff Dorian and Iron Bull to join the conversation at the other end of the table.

The Inquisitor ate heartily as if he hadn't noticed the swift and chilly change in the atmosphere.  He even hummed joyfully as Dorian's face turned ever redder.

 Iron Bull left dinner first and didn't realize Vivienne had followed him until he was ascending the tower steps to go to bed.  He'd been invited, but he hadn't agreed.  Vivienne would, no doubt, make his breakfast hell, but it was worth it just to have his night to himself.  Seeing Dorian blush like a young girl being offered flowers had upset his stomach.

"I know I am not your leader or your keeper, but if I'm to help you at all, I need you to come to tea, tonight," she said before he'd even realized she was behind him.  He was usually more attentive to his surroundings, but his mind was foggy, that night.  He realized he probably did need Vivienne's help.  He just wasn't sure what help he wanted.  How could she help him if he had no goals?

"I'll leave my chambers open for you three," Vivienne said.  "It's more neutral than a bedroom and I think the conversation will be more productive. Please, go there when you're ready.  I'm sure the other two will join you shortly after.  Perhaps, they'll be waiting when you arrive?  I'll spend most of the evening with Lelianna and Josephine.  I've already spoken with Trevelyan, today.  He has no idea what really happened while he was away, but I think I have a better understanding of his needs, now.  He promised to meet with you two in my rooms before bed.  The three of you just need to have a conversation."

"I'm not trying to be with him or Dorian," Iron Bull responded gruffly.  "Romantically, I mean."

"I'm sure you don't want to be sulking acquaintances at dinner, every night.  Just do as I ask, Iron Bull.  Please, dear?"

Iron Bull nodded his agreement and she finally left.  If he didn't follow through, he wasn't sure she'd wait until breakfast to make his life hell.  He wondered how sweet hell would be if she showed up in a nightgown, again.

He was surprised at how involved she'd gotten.  He kept reminding himself that most of this was for Dorian's sake.  Vivienne and Lelianna rarely tangled themselves in matters of the heart, but Dorian's heart issues had become more than simple hurt and longing.  Iron Bull wanted to forget how much danger the mage had put himself in.  He wanted to forget how desperate he was to help Dorian.

"Fucking Tevinter drama queen..." Iron Bull grumbled as he turned around to leave the tower.  He knew if he went to his bedroom, at all, he would just stay there.  He wondered if he could catch Dorian and The Inquisitor before they left dinner.

Sadly, the entire table had been cleared away while he talked to Madam Vivienne.  The Iron Bull trudged up the stairs off the main hall to get to Skyhold's impressive library.  After circling the second floor, twice, he realized Dorian hadn't decided to pass the evening, reading.  Considering his newfound popularity among the Inquisition heavyweights, he could have been anywhere.  Iron Bull wondered if it made sense to check the stables to see if Dorian was having a moonlit lesson with Blackwall or, perhaps, the Tavern suite to see if he was having a few drinks with Sera.

Then, it struck him how curious Trevelyan had been about Dorian's deepening friendships.

"No," Iron Bull whispered to himself.  He knew that if The Inquisitor could get Dorian anywhere private, all hope for a reasonable evening was lost.  All hope for Iron Bull was lost.  He was stuck, again, wondering if he wanted them to get back together and leave him alone, or if he wanted them to be just as lonely as he'd begun to feel without them.

The Bull approached Skyhold's newest throne, another sacked treasure from a land they'd cleared of demons.  Ornate and stern.  Beautiful and intimidating.  It suited Trevelyan.  It oozed power but was also a work of art.  Seductive.  As far as chairs went.  Iron Bull took a sharp left before drawing too near the seat.  He knew Josephine and Lelianna would have his head if he were ever seen sitting on it.  He wished he'd taken time to play around on the throne like Sera and Varric while it was still being assembled in the undercroft.  He'd never get to touch it while on display.  Trevelyan, of course, wouldn't care.  It was still just wildly inappropriate to sit where the man symbolically ruled from.

He pushed open the door to Trevelyan's mostly assembled living quarters and climbed creaky stairs to another door.  He tried to listen from outside it but heard nothing.  Opening the door, just a crack, he realized that he did, indeed, hear Dorian's voice.  Iron Bull wanted to get his promise to Vivienne taken care of so he could return to his rooms and go to sleep.  So, he entered Trevelyan's bedroom and started climbing the final stairs.  If he were slightly less fit, he'd be gasping.  No wonder the Inquisitor's legs were so taut and divine.

 He hadn't quite listened to what Dorian had said.  So, he froze stiff in the middle of the stairs when he heard a loud and long tear.  For a moment, Iron Bull wondered if he'd ripped his own breeches by climbing three stairs at a time.  No, the sound had come from near Trevelyan's bed.

"Dorian!  This is it!  This is my last uniform!!!  Why!?!?!?"

"You think it's okay to shove a socked foot into my crotch all through dinner?  You thought I wouldn't want revenge!!!"

Another rip.  This time a series of short rips as if the mage were shredding something into narrow strips.

"Okay, you've taken the sleeve!  Leave the rest alone!  I can still get this repaired!"

"I've ruined my favorite underthings because of you!"

Another loud rip.  Iron Bull realized he'd grossly misinterpreted all the blushes and shy glances from Dorian.  He'd definitely misread the fake coughing fit when Vivienne had asked him to pass the butter.

"I rather like you in a vest," Dorian growled.  He gave a malevolent laugh and Iron Bull heard The Inquisitor whimpering.  The qunari hated to admit that Dorian's ferocity turned him on.  It even excited him to hear Trevelyan powerless and begging.  Different from his fantasies, yet, somehow, fitting.

The Iron Bull had never hated his horns.  They were a symbol of his strength.  An asset in battle.  A hit with the ladies.  At the moment, however, they were going to end up getting him caught, because he couldn't stop himself from climbing a few stairs to peek over Trevelyan's couch at the action he was hearing any more than he could stop his cock from growing hard in his pants.

Knowing that, despite possibly noticing his horns, they'd never see his cock, The Bull openly stroked himself through the fabric.

As he slowly, and carefully, took a few steps up, he noticed Dorian's robes thrown haphazardly across The Inquisitor's sofa.  He saw Dorian standing, shirtless, holding both of Trevelyan's ankles up.  Iron Bull assumed he was holding Trevelyan's hips up, off the floor.  Dorian kept a firm grip on the man's legs, because there was far too much squirming going on.  Iron Bull watched Dorian's biceps bulge and flex with the effort.  The wicked grin on Dorian's face was delicious.  He'd never seen such sadistic glee on anyone, before.

Trevelyan whimpered more, sounding almost like he was choking back tears.  He gasped and gulped as if fucking his cock into the warmest and wettest hole imaginable.  Iron Bull wondered what was giving the man such pleasure.  Dangling from one of Dorian's hands was the ripped sleeve of The Inquisitor's dull, grey uniform.  The shredded strands danced wildly as Dorian fought to maintain control over his ex-boyfriend's legs.

A single step higher and Iron Bull could see the drying, White stain on Dorian's thigh where he'd cum in his own pants, earlier.  He could see the outline of the mage's fully erect cock.  He could see the thick, twitching rod was leaking precum, evidenced by a growing circle of wetness near the head.  He licked his lips at the intimidating girth.  The bit his bottom lip at the impressive length.  Far larger than most humans Iron Bull interacted with.  He didn't know if he wanted to see Dorian fuck Trevelyan or be fucked, himself.  It had been so long since someone had filled him up the way he wanted to be filled.  Most qunari men wouldn't humor his interests.  After all, the Tamassrans were there for relief and procreation.  The qun wasn't exactly against same-sex fucking, but definitely saw no point in men fucking men.

Two steps higher and he could see The Inquisitor squirming on the floor as Dorian pressed a bare foot into the crotch of his grey pants.  Watching Dorian rub the ball of his foot along the Inquisitor's erection made Iron Bull's stomach flutter.  He gripped his own cock, harder. A thick stream of jizz leaked out of him.  Slowly.  Agonizingly.  It was difficult not to grunt in approval.  The Inquisitor's cheeks were red and his face tear-streaked.  Iron Bull decided he definitely wanted to see Dorian's huge cock reaming their leader's pert ass.  He hoped beyond hope that the pleasure made him red and weepy like the footjob did.

Short, desperate grunts came out of Trevelyan's mouth as Dorian lightly thumped his foot against the man's swollen balls.

"Dorian, I'm going to cum!"  Each syllable delivered in a moaning staccato.

"Should I have tossed you on the throne first?  Let your loyal subjects and friends watch you pretend you're not soiling these horribly ugly pajama bottoms?"

"I'm sorry!"

"You're not," Dorian laughed.  His disbelief was something Iron Bull shared.  The qunari leaned forward, peeking through the railing behind Trevelyan's couch.  He was lucky neither man looked his way.  He wasn't in a position where he could quickly duck away if they did.  He'd be caught.  His cock was so hard that it stuck straight out from his crotch.  His pants weren't tight enough to bend it to the side.  The dribbling head pressed against the low, stone wall in front of him.  He jerked himself in long, slow strokes as he held himself up with one hand wrapped around one of the railing's posts.  The cold, rough stone felt slightly painful and completely pleasurable against his glans.  

"You're never sorry," Dorian continued.  "You push me and push me and push me until I'm punishing this filthy cock of yours.  That's what you always want, isn't it?  A spanking.  A rough handjob?  I little kick in the pants?"

Dorian gave a slightly harder kick, making the inquisitor yelp.  He pushed the man's legs away from himself and took a few steps back.  Iron Bull licked his lips as Dorian started undoing his own belt.  The Inquisitor wasted no time.  He remained on the floor, looking up at his lover.  He stroked himself, eagerly.  The wet noises his hand made as it slicked across his still clothed cock were music to Iron Bull's ears.  He wondered if the man had cum himself or if Dorian had teased him until he was wetter than a tavern wench.

"Get up, your highness," Dorian had pulled out his meaty cock but didn't seem interested in removing his pants.  Topless.  Barefoot.  Cock hanging out.  Iron Bull loved the desperation involved.  Of course the two needed to rush.  They all still had to get back to Vivienne's at a decent hour."

"Bed or couch?"

"Desk," Dorian responded.

Iron Bull took a few steps down and missed out on seeing them move across the room.  Hopefully, they'd have their backs to him when he crept back up to take a look.

More ripping and a loud groan from The Inquisitor.

"Aren't you going to even take my belt off?!"

"No, the hole works for me," Dorian said.  Iron Bull could hear the laughter in his voice.

"I don't think you understand that I can't get more of these!"

"I don't think you understand that I hate them," Dorian responded.  They'd both grunted on the word "hate" and Iron Bull knew he'd taken that moment to plunge himself into Trevelyan's ass.

"Ah, fuck.  This was a mistake," Dorian groaned through gritted teeth.

"Fucking Andraste, Dorian!" Trevelyan cried out.  "I've been gone a whole week..."

"Sorry, sorry.... fuck.  Okay.  Just..."  Iron Bull could hear how labored Dorian's breath was.

"Just add more oil."

"No," Dorian said. "I'm pulling out.  Wait a minute."

Creeping back up the stairs, Iron Bull was disappointed to see that they were both facing his way.  Well, they would be if Dorian was still fucking his ex from behind.  Instead, Trevelyan was bent over at the desk with his eyes screwed shut and Dorian was crouching behind him.  Judging by the noises, he was soothing the pain he'd dealt with his lips and tongue.  The Inquisitor moaned, again, about cumming.  Dorian stopped licking his ass long enough to tell him that he didn't have permission to cum until he was being fucked.  Iron Bull watched as their great leader started trembling from the effort.

The qunari's pants were soaked.  The wet fabric dragging along his cock as he jerked even faster was beginning to get noisy. Thankfully, it was nowhere near as noisy as Dorian's sucking mouth and Trevelyan's crying.  He knew he'd come soon, and he'd never been quiet during an orgasm in his life.

So, due to his impending orgasm and the fact that Trevelyan needed to only open his eyes to catch him watching them, Iron Bull slowly backed down the stairs and out of The Inquisitor's rooms.  He wanted, desperately, to hear Tevinter profanity as Dorian drenched The Inquistor's insides.  He wanted desperately to see Trevelyan's cum soak the papers on that desk.

He knew better than to risk getting himself caught.

Outside of the bed chamber, Iron Bull continued pulling on his incredible dick.  While he had a plan to hide the wetness, he'd have no way of hiding such a massive erection.  With shaking hands, he unbuckled part of his harness, leaving just enough space for him to pull his cock out and frot against the railing.  One hand hanging on the bannister and the other simply squeezing hard on his sensitive glans, Iron Bull fucked an imaginary lover and grunted loud in the open and silent space.  He could, distantly, hear Dorian alternating between yelling insults and praises at the ass he was simultaneously fucking.  Iron Bull wished he could hear the slaps of his thighs against Treveylan's ass.

The ass Iron Bull imagined he was fucking had started off as Trevelyan but alternated between him and Dorian until he finally settled on a wanton, moaning, Vivienne.  Dreaming about Vivienne felt safe, considering he'd have to look the other two in the eye and have a serious conversation, soon.

He thrust his hips forward one final time and pulled the hand gripping his cockhead away to let his cum fly down to the wooden planks and tools, below.  He imagined, the next morning, that people wouldn't notice the mess or would make every assumption but the truth if they cared about its origin.

Righting his clothes, he quickly left Trevelyan's quarters, entirely.  At the nearest table of the main hall, he grabbed the first pitcher he saw and spilled it on himself.

Afterglow was a luxury one didn't get to have when masturbating outside a friend's bedroom door.  It was jarring to have such a fantastic orgasm and then burst back into a room full of music and conversation.  He'd have time for euphoria, later, in a private bath.

The nearest noblewomen rushed to his aid, patting at his naked chest and softening cock with mock-shy grins and too-small handkerchiefs.  He thanked them for their efforts, turned down the one brazen enough to offer to walk him to his rooms, and marked through the hall covered in his own precum and a flagon of red wine.  It wasn't the smartest idea he'd ever had, but it had worked.  He hoped.

Back in his rooms, he couldn't manage to find Integra to fill his bath with her magic and he didn't imagine he had time for another maid to take the traditional approach.  He settled on washing off using the cold water basin in the corner of his room and a change of clothes.

Rushing to find dry boots and an eyepatch that hadn't been splashed with wine, Iron Bull wondered if Trevelyan and Dorian would be leisurely about getting to Vivienne's room.  After all, she would most likely be furious if bedtime fell and the three were still sitting on her couches.

As if the trade-off for the gift of seeing Dorian's glorious cock and Trevelyan's pleasured tears was getting his ass handed to him by Lady Vivienne, the moment he walked into her sitting room, he spotted her lounging where she'd lounged a week ago and glaring up at the door.


End file.
